


Love, Magic, and Insurance Fraud

by Jupiterra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Antique Shops, Complete, Dragons, Elves, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fraud, Gender Identity, M/M, Modern Era, swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-09-26 05:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17136254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: When Toris buys a replacement fridge online while drunk, he gets himself into a whole heap of trouble. Follow along on his adventure as it spirals out of control, thanks to fraudster Felix!Written for a Poland/Lithuania Christmas event. Tags will be updated along with the story as chapters are added.





	1. Chapter 1

The smell of dust, oils, and lemon cleaner clashed for dominance in the cluttered office. It couldn't be helped that Toris's work space was claustrophobic. He would never dare complain, having recently been hired by the legendary Ludwig Beilschmidt. The storied antiques seller was a master of all things heraldry and knightly. His personal store was packed with restored tapestries, suits of armour, and racks of swords. 

Under regular circumstances, Toris was considered a sub standard restorer. He was rather useless with metal pieces and fabrics. A recent addition to the store's inventory had resulted in an end to Toris's financial suffering. Crystal, glass, and porcelain of long dead royalty had caught his new boss's eye.

The small but beautiful pieces were beginning to dominate a good third of the store. They were less demanding than suits of restored armour, and much more popular than swords. Within this quiet niche, Toris's years of silent toiling shone bright. Not all of these pieces came intact, or particularly clean, needing his attention. Additionally, Mr. Beilschmidt needed a full time front man. He was often so absorbed in his sword restorations he didn't emerge from his own lair for hours.

So it was that Toris was cleaning a tea cup from 1805 with utmost delicacy, ears forever perked for the door bell. After a good long time, the door bell chimed. Toris set the serpent patterned cup down, then peeled off his blue rubber gloves. Mr. Beilschmidt was quite insistent human oils and sweat didn't sully the more valuable merchandise.

Toris put on a smile for the sake of customer service. It dropped the second he saw who the customers were. It was a familiar man and his wife, as ridiculously over dressed as they were rich. They were also incredibly picky and impossible to please, easily Ludwig's biggest patrons.

“Toris.” Mr. Edelstein greeted coldly, not a warm creature by any stretch of the imagination.

“Mr. Edelstein. Always a pleasure to serve you.” Toris flattered the man, knowing it was what the wealthy craved obsessively.

Toris's boss could feel the wealth of his loyal customers like a scent hound. Mr. Beilschmidt appeared from his sword filled back office, gathering what little charm he possessed. Toris didn't mind the man's stoic ways, but it could make for poor conversation. After all, neither employee or boss could be considered social expressive.

The forever anxious brunet was pleased his strict blond employer took over. Retreating to his own little space, Toris resumed his private task. Cleaning the centuries old tea cup with great care, he wiped softly at the famous blue and silver designs of the orient. Ludwig's hunger for all things royal and chivalrous was insatiable. He probably saw the imperial crown designs along the edges and fell in love with the whole set instantly. This particular tea set had no famous elements to it. Largely, it was a miracle that an entire matching tea set from 1805 was still intact. Typically by now, at least one part was broken or missing.

Dealing with customers honestly consumed the least amount of time for Toris. Only a few items needed to be sold per month to cover bills and wages. Swords typically didn't stay on the rack more than a few weeks. Rare crystal was rapidly becoming the new hot seller, six or so gone this week alone.

Mostly, a modest Toris answered the phone and internet inquiries. True collectors almost always asked ahead of time what was in stock. It was a smart move, saving them travel time. This job was really luring Toris out of his shell in many ways.

It was now the end of the day, and Toris was closing up shop. Mr. Beilschmidt would be oblivious to the world for hours, enamoured by a rare tinker sword he acquired. Surprisingly the strict man appeared from his metal treatment lab at the back of the shop.

With hushed reverence, he slipped on white cloth gloves and picked up a tea cup. It was the first part of the set to be cleaned. The rest of the pieces were almost grey with time, while this lone cup shone in watery blues, silver, and white.

“If you continue having such... lovely results, I may keep you here forever.” Ludwig spoke strangely, almost to the object itself. Like all era specific specialists, he had his known eccentricities.

“Thank you sir?” Toris replied quizzically.

Whatever trance the focused German was in prior broke. He dimly registered Toris standing next to him, sparing a side glance. “Oh, yes. You can go home, Mr. Laurent.”

“My last name is Laurinaitis.” Toris corrected for the twentieth time this week. It was becoming tiring and frustrating.

“Yes, Mr. Toris. Thank you for closing up shop.”

Well. Toris Laurinaitis was Mr. Toris now it seemed. “Goodnight sir.” the brunet bid goodbye, turning the alarm system on for the customers area as he left. Truthfully, his outward appearance was a well constructed lie. He did not hail from blue blooded lines or wealth. His three tailored suits and designer pocket square were exceptions of a ratty clothing collection.

Outside of work, Toris was a homely figure. Track suits and old running shoes were the height of his domestic fashion. This bipolar lifestyle was not one of choice. With very little family or connections, Toris had been raised quietly by his grandfather. The gentle old man passed away in his sleep. Much like a dream, there was very little familial wealth left after the grief of the funeral lifted.

Without living parents, Toris had no choice but to sell his grandfather's estate and coast off the profit as long as he could. Now in his mid twenties, the brunet was proud of his financial skills. He managed to pay off the debt accrued from life's challenges and move to a less lethargic city. It was a cozy little place close to the polish border, while remaining in Germany.

Not that Toris was German himself. He only left his native land of Lithuania to chase a girl after college. He had always had a crushing weakness for flashy blondes. Unfortunately, they all stole his stuff along with his heart. Toris was effectively done with love. It was too damn expensive.

After an hour bus ride to the edges of Dresden, Toris was finally home. It was a humble basement apartment buried in the heart of a residential zone. Sure, the paint was peeling in a few spots. It was... Damn. It was shit. Toris hated to admit it but his place was pretty cheaply held together. At least it was a place to live.

Wisely, Toris didn't live with pets. He would feel too guilty if he couldn't buy them the very best. That was fine. He didn't need anyone to be happy. This was one of the many mantras he internalized to survive the long days.

Entering his apartment, Toris was ready to crash and sleep. His bachelor pad was mostly clean of wandering dishes or laundry. His kitchen was small and open concept along one wall. The fridge was a sour shade of green, drooling brown goo... wait a minute!

Toris slammed the front door shut and locked it, dashing over the the fridge. Pulling open the top freezer section, a small deluge of melted ice cream poured out the front. “No! My butterscotch ripple!” Toris cried out in defeat. The ice cream had suffered a most terrible fate. Everything in the fridge had expired quickly, the seal of the appliance door starting to get a little ragged.

The brunet was depressed at the loss of so many temperature sensitive foods. The fridge was simply too old, well beyond his knowledge of repair. Toris sank into his beloved reclining chair and sighed. He dragged his laptop computer on his lap and booted it up. Time to do price checking for a fridge he couldn't honestly afford.

The stressed man only intended to have one small drink, but was soon sipping his third bottle of beer. Drinking and online shopping were one of Toris's few burning weaknesses. This was why he owned a fake autographed poster of William Shatner despite never having watched Star Trek.

Two hours into this online adventure, Toris was somehow on a polish appliance website. He couldn't recall how he even found the site, often distracted by online do-it-yourself videos. “I could build a deck. What do you know internet? Nothin'. That's right.” Toris rambled to the open air.

There it was, the fridge of fridges. It was black with chrome. It was as cheap as the whisky was warm. Toris wanted that fridge. Without a trace of regret or hesitation, he ordered the thing. He clicked away five notable disclaimers, one with red font. Who even read those? No regrets for this guy!

New fridge, here came Toris!

00000

Toris had patiently waited two long weeks. He had survived off ramen noodles and potato dishes in the meantime. He had gone out for lunch many more times that he dare calculate the cost of. Today was finally the day. The arrival of the fridge was imminent.

It was strange how Toris wasn't given notification on what time it would arrive. That was a typical feature of most package delivery businesses. Even finding the website he had used for the order was something quite tricky. It seemed in his drunk shopping spree, the browser history had been cleared. Odd, but not the oddest thing to ever occur.

So it was that Toris was lounging around his apartment. Most of the morning was spent in his boxers and a shirt. Sweat pants that never made it to his legs were draped over the soft recliner chair. Engrossed in a documentary about the legacy of paganism in southern Germany, he never even made it to a shower. Eyes glued to the TV screen, Toris never escaped the chair he passed out in last night.

“... often assumed that _paganus_ as a religious term was a result of the conversion patterns during the Christianization of Europe. Places where people in towns and cities were converted more readily than those in remote regions, where old ways lingered. However, this idea has multiple problems. First, the word's usage as a reference to non-Christians pre-dates that period in history. Second, paganism within the Roman Empire centred on cities. The concept...” the documentary went on like it had for the past hour.

A banging knock on his front door lurched Toris out of his educational stupor. “Coming!” He called out, hopping slightly as he got out of his chair. Tugging on his sweat pants, he almost fell over on the journey to the door. He paused, contemplating if his hair was too unkempt. Oh no, he hadn't made to a shower yet!

“DELIVERY! GOT A FRIDGE!” a guy yelled through the door.

“COMING!” Toris responded in the same tone, hurriedly undoing all five locks on his door. High security was a must in such a neighbourhood. Mourning no time to fix himself up, the stressed brunet scraped his long hair into a ponytail and bound it with a scrunchy. Opening the door, he offered a shy smile in greeting.

A bold blond man slightly shorter than him barged in, talking in lightning speed Polish. “Cute. Alright. Where's this fridge going? Here? Probably here. Yeah. Man this place is _tiny_ , like peasant tiny. Ugh, I guess it'll do. Okay, get out of the way!”

Completely run over verbally, Toris was pushed aside like a leaf. “I... um...” he faltered weakly, overpowered by such a strong personality. Incredibly, the fridge was pushed in and installed without being asked, all in under five minutes. However, there was something wrong.

For one thing, the fridge was hot pink with silver accents. Toris clearly recalled ordering a black and chrome one, even if he was drunk at the time. More confusing yet, the blonde delivery man was now carrying three huge bags of stuff in.

“Um, excuse me? I ordered a black fridge.” Toris objected, trying to impose himself and failing. He was not known for being a frightening figure.

“A bachelor pad. I guess I can hang my paintings... here. And my beanbag chair will go over there...” the stranger talked to himself, ignoring the brunet.

“ _Excuse me_.” Toris insisted again, getting angry.

“You're excused cutie!” The blonde cheered, now pulling things out of his three garbage bags and setting them up in the messy room.

“Why are you moving stuff into my home?”

This finally made the frenetic force of nature pause. He looked to Toris with bright green eyes like blazing emeralds. It was strange how inhumanly captivating they were. “You didn't read the disclaimers when you bought the fridge?”

Toris squinted in thought, recalling clicking away something to buy the appliance. What it was he honestly couldn't recall. Damn the amber charms of alcohol for slurring his brain. “I... don't think so?”

The stranger rolled his eyes, pulling an aged parchment scroll impossibly from a too small pocket. Toris didn't have time to gasp at physics being defied, for his eyes met a wall of hand written legal jargon. “How did you –”

“Now see here, section 120, paragraph seven, the buyer agrees to a binding agreement of cohabitation with deliverer of the purchased fridge. That's me.” The guy went on, clearly proud of his handiwork. Panicking internally, Toris backed against a wall. He needed help fast, because he was being scammed like a sucker.

Toris Laurinaitis desperately needed a lawyer.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred Jones was one of the greatest lawyers Toris had ever worked with since his grandfather's death only a few years ago. Alfred was also so patriotic it verged on the erotic. The office was a large place in Berlin, quite the trip for a cash strapped Toris. Alfred owed the man for a favour years back, so wouldn't mind a drop in like this. This was an emergency after all.

Sitting in the office of the renowned American lawyer was intimidating. Two shot guns hung beside an framed American flag on the wall. Painted portraits of President FDR, Jesus Christ, and Dale Earnheart all displayed next to diplomas and legal certificates. The otherwise plain work desk had the eagle from the American Presidency badge carved into the top and finished with cherry wood lacquer.

Put simply, Alfred Jones was brilliant but possibly insane.

The brilliant ego of a man burst into the room, startling a silent and waiting Toris. “Toris! I haven't seen ya in a dog's age! How ya holding up fella?” The obnoxious man greeted, as loud as his American flag themed tie. Toris was swept into a crushing hug without his permission, then dropped back in the chair like a discarded toy.

His Texan accent was still as strong as his unique charms. Toris inwardly froze a little from being approached so brazenly, but willed himself to respond. Alfred rarely meant anyone harm. “Not well friend. I was tricked into a bit of a situation.” Toris replied honestly, having been good pals with the man since before the funeral.

“Got yourself in a spot of trouble? What is it? Parking tickets?” Alfred joked, leaning back in a leather office chair. He twirled the ends of his trademark “gentleman's moustache” in amusement. It was smaller than in past years, but still uniquely American in it's absurdity. It paired well with that terrible cowboy hat he wore in public.

“No... Online disclaimer fraud. I was _maybe_ a little drunk, and bought a fridge. I didn't read the disclaimers, and now a stranger is living in my apartment. I don't really know what to do.” Toris confessed, flustered with his failings. He was normally more responsible than this.

“Don't worry about it lil' buddy. I'll do a free consultation, see what this bastard is up to. You got any papers for me?” the lawyer dismissed Toris's sadness, ever cheerful.

“Yes the contract was rather long.” Toris put all 72 pages of the many disclaimers on the desk, all housed in a thick manilla envelope.

Alfred pulled the stuffed envelope close, then peeked inside. He brows his brows in surprise, then whistled. “Well. I'm going to skim this for a bit. You can either sit in here or chat with Anya outside. I'll give you a call when I'm done.”

“Well... I...” Toris muttered, immediately ignored.

“ANYA!” Alfred thundered through the walls.

“WHAT.” a high voice yelled right back, edged with poison.

“WE HAVE GUESTS.”

A femme fatale like no other walked into the room. She was curves, exotic Russian charms, and danger in a long black dress. She was no other than Alfred's socialite wife of many years, Anya Petrovna Jones. “I was busy dearest.” She purred in her own way, looking to Toris with hooded eyes. They were dark and framed with thick black eyeliner, eyes of a well sculpted predator. Toris honestly didn't see the appeal. Having a wife of that calibre was like owning a tiger. Eventually you were going to get attacked and eaten.

Alfred, meanwhile, was openly smitten with her like a school boy. “I'm reviewing a case for my pal here. Could you fetch him a latte? You like lattes right? Everyone likes lattes. You know what? Get me a latte too.”

“Of course.” she answered, her coy act not fooling Toris. He had seen the woman's knife throwing skills during a Christmas party. She was not to be messed with.

Meekly following the deadly beauty as she sauntered out of the room, Toris was more scared of her than anyone else in the world. Anya could probably break his spine in half. Efficiently served a black tea like once before, he was immediately left alone to browse magazines. He was afraid to so much as clear his throat, so sipped carefully on his perfect cup of tea.

A horrible thirty minutes passed before Toris was called into the refuge of Alfred's office. A soul chilling gaze followed him until he was literally out of the waiting room. “Your wife is... lovely as always.” Toris commented, mouth dry from nervousness.

“She's an angel Toris. Like a big ol' diamond that's a box of dynamite. I'm a lucky son of a gun, I tell ya.” Alfred drawled, utterly love sick.

 _Yeah, lucky to be alive._ Toris thought privately. “So, my case?” he prompted instead.

Alfred tapped his fingers on the stack of paper, then sighed and took off his black framed reading glasses. “Well boy, I gotta say... This contract is tighter than a boa constrictor on a jack rabbit.”

“What does that mean?” Toris acted, genuinely confused.

“It's well written is what. In German, English, and what I'm figurin' is Polish. Not that I know Polish. I'm plum dumbfounded how to get ya out of it without resorting to a marriage court.”

Toris's brain swirled in panic at this dire news. “What do you mean, marriage court?”

Alfred chuckled, amused. “This here is a arranged marriage I tell ya. Only way I sees you getting out is with a negotiation meeting. Which I will have to charge, of course.”

“I... I don't know what to do.” Toris blurted out, upset now. Alfred had been his biggest chance of fixing this mess.

“Don't worry Toris, I'm your pal. I'll think of somethin' and give you a holler. Same phone number right?” Alfred assured, his spirits impossible to squash.

“Yeah.”

“Alrighty. Get out so I can work then. I have a two o'clock coming up and I need to get ready.” Alfred dismissed bluntly, pushing his glasses back on. Once more engrossed in the papers, Alfred's warrior lawyer mode was unstoppable. Fleeing the waiting room lorded over by an omnipresent Anya, Toris contemplated what to do next on the sidewalk.

It was time to seriously talk to the stranger invading his home.


	3. Chapter 3

The flashy stranger lounged on his beanbag chair, eating a bag of chips. He wasn't taking Toris seriously at all as he talked.

“So, those are the reasons why I'm politely asking you to leave.” Toris finished his dry rambling spiel that had five whole minutes.

“So you're going to sick your lawyer on me?” the other man asked blandly.

“Yes, essentially.”

The blonde gave a short hearty laugh. “First of all, my name is Feliks Lukasiewicz of the order of red serpents, from the rivers of Wawel. Secondly, no. You didn't read the disclaimers, and you bought my fridge. So this is on you... I'm not going _anywhere_ buddy.”

“Well, Felix... This arrangement is not going to work then.” Toris summarized tiredly.

“I'm not going back to Poland.” The other man objected, green eyes boring holes into Toris's willpower. The brunet crumpled like he always did in the face of opposition. Iterations of 'why can't you be like your older brother?' echoed in the long dead voice of his parents.

Wilting and ready to give up, Toris was struggling to remain resilient. “Did you murder someone there?” He asked pensively.

“No, no, I just... I have a hereditary condition, and people get all witch hunt-ish when they found out what it is. I decided to pack up my work and leave.” The story was so absurd of an excuse, Toris burst into laughter.

“So you gave someone important AIDS?” Toris accused in jest, only for for Felix's expression to twist in disgust.

“Eww! What's the matter with you!?” The unwanted guest sputtered, shaking his head.

“Do you have a tail or something?” Toris kept asking, now genuinely curious. Peppered with questions, Felix grew more red and silenced.

Finally he spoke, deathly serious. “I can't tell you, and I can't go back to Poland, ever.”

It was stated with such severity, opposite to the stranger's typical bubbly nature. This guy was not joking around. “Well... if you meet with my lawyer and nullify all of these disclaimers, I'll let you stay for a bit. So you can find another apartment.” Toris offered softly, losing any edge of intimidation he carried.

The stranger perked up from his moody slouching in the bean bag chair, eyes bright. Toris could swear they glowed from how green they were. “You really mean it?”

“Um... if you don't steal from me, yeah.” Toris confirmed cautiously.

It was a burst of happiness like a sunrise as Felix grinned brightly. “You aren't gonna regret this mister. I'm gonna be the best roommate a peasant has ever had!”

 _Peasant_. Such a strange term for a person to use. Toris cleared his throat, still nervous around this man. “If you're staying, you have to pay rent too, and chip in for food.”

“Of course, of course.” Felix agreed cheerfully, reaching into those small pockets of his. He pulled out a fist full of random ancient coins and shoved them in the brunet's open hands. They were all dated for 1836 or earlier in stately Russian letters that Toris couldn't read. As he gaped in shock, Felix went on. “I think that should be enough. I have no idea what the currency inflation is right now... no, you know what? I'll toss in some collateral too. The coins might not work anymore. I don't really pay attention to that stuff sometimes.”

Toris was speechless as a carved ivory dagger was added to the pile. He knew from work the dangerous piece of art had to be really old. It was still razor sharp and freshly bound at the handle.

“So, we're good roomie?” Felix asked casually, as if he hadn't paid the rent in priceless artifacts. Toris could only close his mouth and nod slowly. “Great! Give me your law arbiter's number and I'll get things all cleared up.” the blonde went on.

Just like that, Toris now had a wacky new roommate. In all honestly. Felix wasn't a horrible person to live with. Toris worked constantly, coming home to a clean and typically empty apartment. Where the intrepid young blond headed off to everyday, Toris had no idea.

Toris's material life was returned to him after a quiet sit down between Felix and Alfred. The fraudulent bastard and the insane lawyer even got along relatively well. Still, there was a lot of questions left unanswered after living with the guy. Despite offering the foldout bed in the couch, Felix was never observed eating or sleeping even once.

Where was the man going during the day? What was he eating to live? How did he have a rare dagger from a dead country? How did Felix find fresh coins from 1836 when Poland was under Russian empire control? The coins and dagger were indeed real, and in perfect condition. All these mysteries were driving Toris up the wall.

He craved answers, finally breaking the silence. Someone had to know, and Felix had an infuriating tendency to speak in riddles or antiquated terms. On this day, a mere week before Christmas, Toris approached his boss's metal treatment shop. It was honestly a dangerous room burgeoning with swords and weapons from across the centuries.

Knocking a few times on the heavy oak door, Toris waited patiently. Ludwig soon appeared, brandishing a half restored roman gladius. “What? I'm busy.” He spat in german, looking perturbed at the outside world bothering him.

“Sir, I just locked up shop for the evening and set the alarm. I wanted your opinion on something.” Toris explained hurriedly, not wanting to be gored by a rusty sword.

At this, the gruff boss's expression softened. “Opinion... on a weapon?” he asked hopefully, spotting the dagger in it's leather sheathe. The dangerous knife currently hung off Toris's trouser belt. He had been using it as a letter opener for three weeks now.

Welcomed inside, his boss's profession was made clear. A half completed suit of armour sat in one corner, doubling as a coat rack. There was three book shelves stuffed full of reference books. Every inch of wall space was covered in restored weapons ready for sale. Toris knew there was a former employee coat closet somewhere jammed full of cleaned heraldry flags and massive tapestries.

Toris piled his bounty on his boss's desk, the only cleared surface not in use. Ludwig was immediately interested, slipping on his white fabric gloves. With utmost care, he plucked a coin off the desk. He peered at it with a magnifying glass for a few minutes. The suspense was terrible. Finally, he spoke with assured authority. “These are perfectly preserved and definitely real. I couldn't give you an accurate appraisal. I do know a coin expert though.”

“I was hoping to sell them for real money, sir.”

“I can get that set up.” Ludwig seemed more than pleased at the opportunity. He no doubt had some fee he would scrape off the top.

“But... I really need to know what this is. I think it's ivory, but I don't know which African tribe it came from.” Toris finally freed the ornate bone dagger from his belt and placed it on the desk. He knew he had something when his German boss's eyes were like saucers. The normal brusque man approached the dagger like it was the fourth wonder of the world.

“Is this the original leather sheath?” he asked, enamoured as he picked up the blade.

“Yes. Do you know how old it is?” Toris's curiosity was more than warranted it seemed.

“How is it possible this is in perfect condition?” the blonde muttered, entranced.

“What is it?” Toris repeated, impatient for once.

“This... is not African. It's a gift intended for the emperor of the holy roman empire from possibly eleventh century Poland. One of the very first emperors, if I'm correct. How the leather has survived is a _miracle_. How did you find this?” The clean cut blonde looked like a child at Christmas, having seen holiday magic.

“I can't say for privacy reasons.” Toris answered honestly. Responding with 'My bat shit insane roommate gave it to me as a paperweight' seemed too inappropriate.

“I must have it. Name your price.” The proposal struck Toris like lightning, surprising from such a stringent man.

“It's not for sale.”

“I insist. I am a _wealthy_ man.” His boss simply wouldn't drop the topic.

“My apologies, but I must refuse.”

“I see. I understand. Thank you for letting me view it. May I take several photos?” Mr. Beilschmidt seemed genuinely hurt by this rejection. It was like he had been shut down by a celebrity.

“If you must.” Toris relented, nervous about the fervour in Ludwig's blue eyes. It was the look of obsession, of jealousy. The man really wanted that dagger and he would likely offer again at a later point. What had the shy brunet fallen into now?

After no less than twenty pictures from every angle, Ludwig returned the knife with great regret. Toris was happy to flee his workplace. Something stranger than usual was up with his newly acquired roommate. Why resort to fraud as a living when you carried around one thousand year old treasures? Why call the pharmacy an apothecary? Why pay the rent in coins obsolete since 1865?

Something was critically wrong with Feliks Lukasiewicz, Whether he was genuinely insane, or just a skilled antiques thief, the charismatic fellow needed to be dealt with. It was time for yet another talk.


	4. Chapter 4

Felix was at home for once, looking distant in the recliner chair. He hid his hands in his long baggy sleeves, clutching himself. His strange gaze snapped up to follow Toris's movements like a cat. “What are you doing doing here?” He hissed in annoyance, voice not as chipper as usual.

“I live here, thank you very much.” Toris replied playfully, attempting a weak extension of friendship. Maybe he was a little lonely, just a tiny bit.

“You have to leave.” Felix ordered. Toris furrowed his brows, watching the roommate double over in the chair from possible pain.

“Are you hurt?” Toris rushed over in concern as Felix let out a low rumble. It was an inhuman sound that should only came from a larger creature. There was a sulphurous hint to the air, like Felix was a leaky exhaust.

With a blur of super human strength, Felix tossed Toris into his own room. A heavy crack of furniture confirmed something that was barely possible as the door was barricaded shut. Felix had just moved a metal framed couch with one hand, nearly throwing the beaten and abused object. “... Felix... What are you?” Toris asked through the door anxiously.

There was no articulated response, but a long low groan. With a final mutter of “Worst timing ever...” the human voice stretched and deepened. There was scratching of claws on tile like a large dog. The splintering of wooden objects followed. After ten long confusing minutes, there was silence. A slightly lower voice cursed the air. The stinky chemical scents were stronger now but not unbearable. “Shit, shit, _shit_.” Felix cursed again in odd polish dialect.

“What's happening out there? You didn't break my wall plates did you?” Toris called out, ear pressed against the dark door of his unlit bedroom.

“Uh, _no_.” Felix lied badly.

“I'm coming out there.”

“NO, Don't!”

“If you broke a single plate, the ghost of my grandfather is going to haunt you.” Toris didn't utter this threat idly. He had inherited his love of antiques from the noble figure as a child. The old house in Lithuania had been stuffed to the rafters with rare art and porcelain pieces.

A massive force pinned the door shut. It was like trying to push against a mountain. “Please let me out. We need to talk.” Toris tried again, frustrated.

“You can't see me like this, you'll freak out.” Felix denied childishly.

“I won't.”

“You will. Everyone does.”

“I promise I won't.”

“Slide your cellphone under the door first so you can't call the cops.” Felix demanded. Toris obeyed, hearing a crunch of plastic and metal a few seconds later.

“Did you just crush my phone?” he called out.

“Okay, I'm letting you out, but you can't scream.” Felix warned, completely ignoring the question. “Why would I –” Toris's sentence dropped as he fell on his ass from shock. The scene before him was something out of a movie. Four gleaming claws punctured through the door like it was paper, then clenched together and ripped the door off it's hinges. The dense couch had been crushed to a metal and stuffing ball.

The bright green of Felix's eyes were familiar, but the rest was alien. It was a bulky reptilian body of scarlet tinged with gold. His underbelly was bright white, as was the webbing of his currently folded up wings. Graceful curling horns and back spikes were tipped in gold, like a living treasure. The toothy maw of the creature was revealed with a small growl. Slightly yellowed teeth were as long as steak knives, and equally as serrated.

“You are a dragon.” Toris sputtered, unable to move.

“A dragon of the kin of Smok, from the river of Wawel. I have a heraldry you know.” The dragon huffed proudly. A small curl of flame and black smoke poured from his mouth. It was a life saver for once that Toris's fire alarm wasn't working.

“You're a dragon.” the brunet stammered again.

“Yes.” Felix rolled his intelligent emerald eyes in annoyance. His voice was still very human, even though the jaw didn't move. It had to be telepathy, real life telepathy. “A dragon with a bad sense of timing.”

Toris didn't know what to say to this. A supernatural beast the size of a truck was squashed into his living room. Without warning, Felix clawed viciously at his own armoured hide. Dull dead skin peeled off in large transparent flakes. Much like a snake, It seemed Toris's resident dragon was shedding and incurably itchy. The anxious man was filled equally with terror as he was intrigue. He stood up slowly, and approached.

“You need help.” Toris whispered.

“I'm so damn itchy I can barely hold a spell.” The dragon cursed through mental link, still scratching the tough scutes of his underbelly. Fresh scales lay beneath what was now obviously a cloudy dirty layer.

“Please, stop moving or you'll tear up the walls. The landlord will definitely show up if that happens.” Toris warned, laying a hand cautiously on the dragons powerful snout. The two simply looked at each other a moment. It was a snap of time without needed dialogue, or noise. Toris was not going to hurt Felix, and the powerful beast seemed to sense this.

Their talk would have to wait yet again. Toris was going to spend his evening helping a dragon moult his old scales instead.

00000

Ludwig and Gilbert sat at the rustic wooden table. All twenty photographs were scattered between the two German brothers, as they wore equal expressions of shock. Gilbert, the paler of the two, put his glasses on again, and scrutinized a photo for the seventh time. He put it down, and stared at Ludwig.

“How? How did you see a nine hundred year old dagger in this condition?”

Ludwig shook his head. “I... I don't know Gilbert. It was like new, but there was no obvious signs it was a forgery.”

“The people that claimed to make these have been dead almost one thousand years! This one is new! It has to be fake!” Gilbert exclaimed, never having been able to contain himself well.

“You don't think I know this?” The blonde brother challenged, tensing.

“This isn't supposed to be possible, unless...” Gilbert was largely speaking to himself now. “You know what this means?”

“No. No, I'm not talking about this again.” Ludwig stood to walk away, but Gilbert was faster. He raced around the table to grab the sibling by the wrist.

“Dragons are real brother. We both know there's only three known knives like this in the whole of Europe. They all came as gifts from dragons to human leaders.” Gilbert was a passionate cryptozoologist as well as a university history teacher. The two brothers had spend many years chasing through the forests of Germany, hunting for spirits and monsters. Much to Ludwig's disappointment, they had never found anything but footprints.

“Dragons are... not real. We looked for twenty years.” Ludwig denied with a twinge of hesitation. His long silent inner child had always wished to see one, but the dream was never realized.

Gilbert wouldn't give up, a true believer. “These daggers were never made from whale, or horse, or walrus, or rhino, or fuckin' elephant ivory. That dagger is a dragon tooth and we both know it!”

“I can't go through this again. Felicity is waiting for me.” Ludwig shook off the grip of his nearly albino brother, staring hard at the floor. “If you want to waste twenty more years, go ahead. I have a date to go to.”

“Fine! Leave! We are so close to finding a dragon and you just want to give up!” Gilbert yelled at the backside of his brother. The man wouldn't cave to such taunts. With the door of the secret research library slammed shut, Gilbert was once again left alone.

“Fine! FINE! I'll finish the job like I always have!” Gilbert declared to open air. He would find this Polish dragon. There was no doubt it was any other species. A recent rash of suspicious forest fires outside of town was an obvious sign. According to family legend, Polish Dragons were typically fire based and arrogant. The very colours of Poland's flag were rumoured to be copied off this mythical red and white beast.

That elusive dragon did exist, and he was in regular contact with Toris Laurinaitis. It was time to investigate.


	5. Chapter 5

Life with his roommate was much more interesting these days. With the big secret out of the bag, Felix was more than willing to hang out. Toris was relieved to have some sort of friend again. He accepted the destruction of three plates and all his furniture with a modicum of grace. Who else had a live fire dragon to lean against while watching TV?

It was a typical Thursday. Toris was watching a historical documentary while using Felix as a self heating couch seat. Today this was sitting in the curled up tail. All the while Felix wouldn't stop grumbling and bitching about historical inaccuracies.

“This documentary is bullshit! Charlemagne was just a guy. I would _know_ , I did some work for him.” The egotistical reptile fumed telepathically. Some fire escaped his jaws as he growled at the TV. The dragon seemed to constantly let off heat or smoke to some degree, unable to stop it. It certainly explained how Felix could wreck a bathroom for a good three hours.

Toris chuckled, patting the scaled hide of the upset creature. “I'm so sure, Felix.”

“For another thing, Charlemagne was fashionable. He never would have worn that outfit.”

“Of course he wouldn't.”

That strong jaw swivelled to Toris. The dragon squinted in accusation. “You don't even believe me!”

“Look Felix, I'm not one for arguing with mythical creatures. If you were there, you were there.”

“Damn right I was there. I'm not one thousand five hundred years old because I hid in a cave like a hermit. I worked my ass off to blend with society. I deserve a break you know?” Felix could go on for hours like this if he felt socially belittled.

“Show me a spell, oh mighty dragon of the river Wawel.” Toris teased, resting his head on the huge leg muscle behind him.

A jaw of dagger teeth grinned in joy. “If you must insist, I will show you magic.” Felix reached over to the kitchen lazily, nearly filling the entire apartment when sprawled in his natural form. Transforming while inside had destroyed all the furniture after all.

A dinner plate was grabbed, looking small in the dragon's golden claws. It was then crushed to pieces.

“Stop breaking my stuff!” Toris objected, feeling bad for the mass produced dish.

With a deep breath, the dragon whispered. “Repair.” His voice was soft, almost vulnerable, in this command. After a few seconds, the destroyed plate pulled back together. It was astounding! It was amazing! It was...

Toris frowned, closely examining the work in his own grip. He personally found it unsatisfactory. There was ridges and swells in some places, like the plate didn't understand it was supposed to be flat. How did you politely tell a dragon he did a crap job? This wasn't so different from work, with flattering a boss.

“Maybe, you could teach me that trick?” Toris suggested, internally retaining ' _so I can fix this plate_ '.

The dragon looked away, burying his face in his own wings a moment. He then mentally stammered slightly. “I... I couldn't. It's really personal and I've never...” Was Felix flustered? Was that possible in a dragon?

“You don't have to if it's uncomfortable.”

“I... I will show you, but you can't tell anyone magic exists. You can't show your parents, or tell your family or anything.” the dragon warned, quite serious.

“My family is dead Felix. I don't have any friends. Who am I going to tell?” Toris spoke in deadpan manner, well aware he lived a lonely life.

There was a silence between then as they met gazes, olive green to emerald. Another moment that didn't require sound. “I think you have at least one friend, Toris.” the thought was faint, a whisper, as it transmitted from a rather solemn dragon.

“Who?” Toris asked, curious and hopeful.

“Me, you idiot.” Felix joked, nudging him with a claw carefully. “You're a really neat human after all.”

A dragon, the most fatheaded creature ever, paying a compliment to anything other than itself. This was rather stunning. Toris blushed and wrung his fingers. “Thank you.” he answered sweetly. This moment was strange, and both parties seemed to be aware of this.

Toris coughed into his fist, keen to shift to a less sensitive topic. “So, um, the spell?”

“Uh, right. So first of all...” Felix destroyed the poor plate again, into even smaller chunks of abused ceramic. “We need a subject to mend.” The nearly powdered remains of the plate slipped through Toris's bony fingers as larger chunks remained.

Next, a large clawed paw rested on Toris's entire shoulder. It was warm and strangely electric with unseen static. “Since you don't have any magic of your own, I'll lend a bit. Now, look at the plate.”

“But it's really broken.” Toris noted, uncertain.

“Look at the plate as _you_ see it. As it was meant to be. Close your eyes if you have to, but feel what the plate was, what it will be.” The dragon went on. Toris obeyed, eyes sliding shut as his imagination took flight.

Truth be told, Toris hated his current dishware set. He hated how lazy the manufacturing companies had become in general. Where was the art, the majesty of living gone to? Why was it so impossible to own nice things that were actually nice?

A real plate would have been formed with care, swirls of ceramic like curled ribbon to form a pattern. A splash of colour never hurt anyone, lily pad green tendrils coming to life in his mind like a flower. “Okay, what next?” Toris asked, dubious this power of imagination would work at all.

“Now, impose what you want it to be over what it is. Think really hard. Then say the command. Say it like you mean it.”

With a skeptic laugh, Toris did so. Heat, pure yet not burning, washed over his skin, his fingers. Seeing the plate, something to be admired and shown off at parties. Like a flower, a painting. The finish would be divine. Without opening his eyes, he cupped the broken remains. The word slipped out of him, with every intention of saying 'Repair.'

“Change.” Toris ordered, absolutely sure for once in his life. The electric hot that flooded his body was gone in an instant, leaving him freezing cold and hollow. Toris gasped at the sudden chill, opening his eyes as he nearly dropped his repaired plate. Only it wasn't repaired. It was a different thing altogether.

It was the plate from his head, resembling a lacy lily pad in bloom with the tiniest of filigree. “I... I... cast a spell?” Toris spoke to the air, not believing what he was seeing and feeling.

“Wow, you're a natural!” Felix congratulated him with a fanged grin.

Toris sank into the coils of Felix's warm tail, inexplicably exhausted. “I'm... gonna take a nap.”

“You earned it. This thing is _pretty_. I'm gonna add it to my hoard when I find a nice place.”

Toris groaned. No doubt Felix would want this happy little accident repeated. This ridiculous event was just another in a string of strange things. Toris's life was becoming increasingly difficult to explain to the police, or any other source of authority.

It was the next morning, and Toris woke as he often did. Ever since Felix set the bed on fire from laughing too hard, the giant dragon was now the new sleeping area. Much like a cat, Felix slept as a tight little loaf under his great glittering wings. Toris was generally on the curled up tail, or in the crook of that elegant neck. It was much more comfortable than it looked.

Crawling out from beside Felix's horned head, he grabbed a few work clothes. They were sometimes hung off the spiralling horns to dry overnight. Felix was a natural dryer, always warmer than the room. A deep grumble, a noise of complaint, could be felt from the mighty dragon as it cracked open one eye.

“Do you _have_ to go to work? It's boring here without you.” Felix whined.

“I told you three months ago why.” Toris answered absently, about to head into the shower. Yet every single day Felix was trying to tempt him into strange magical adventures. Whether it was going flying or practising magic together, Felix clearly didn't like sharing his entertainment.

“Human purpose, blah blah blah... How about I come with you?” Felix dismissed, shape shifting to his human form complete with clothes in a split second.

“No, it would be weird. And you don't work at the store.” Toris denied through the closed door, about to turn on the water.

“So, the only issue is I don't work there.”

“That's not what I meant – give me a few minutes.” Toris sighed, then turned on the water. If only to wash his annoyances away like the suds in his long hair. When the shower was over, Toris dried and dressed. Peeking into the livingroom, no Felix was seen. There was only a melted linoleum shadow of where Felix preferred to sleep, and burnt kindling of a former coffee table.

Not unusual for the sporadic silly creature to turn invisible and bolt off into the sky. Toris chuckled and began his hour long bus ride to work. The chill of winter nipped in the wind, despite a lack of notable snow. Taming his hair into a passable man bun, he entered the store to see something surprising.

A happy Felix in human form, just chatting away with a bewildered Ludwig. The tail end of the conversation was caught. “... so yeah. I want to work here, and you need a front man. Not that marshmallow over there.” Felix gestured to Toris, having stolen one of the man's job interview shirts.

“Felix, what are you doing here?” Toris asked, trying to sound intimidating. He failed greatly.

“Getting a job Tortor! Then we can hang out.”

Mr. Beilschmidt looked to Toris, overwhelmed. “You know this person?”

“He's my buddy. We've been splitting rent for three months now.” Felix volunteered, slinging an arm over Toris's slightly wider shoulders.

“But you live in... Well, that's interesting.” Ludwig cut off his own sentence, know damn well what this looked like. The German antiques dealer knew Toris lived in a bachelor pad the size of a can. He had given Toris a ride home once when the bus was missed.

“Yep. Best friends. Besties you could say.” Felix replied, obvious to the very modern day implication. He only made it worse by nuzzling Toris's hair before parting ways. As a dragon, the gesture was normal and casual. As a human, it didn't translate very well.

“He's harmless.” Toris assured weakly. Mr. Beilschmidt wasn't buying it.

“It was very interesting to meet you, but I must return to work.” The tall German bid good bye, retreating to his office.

With this, Felix grinned and finally took the cue to leave. “See you later Tortor!”

“My office. Now.” Toris's boss called out from the back. He watched his roommate vanish to sidewalks unknown and sighed. Following the order to the office, the forever nervous man took a seat on a stool.

“This Felix of yours is very rude, and forthright.” Mr. Beilschmidt stated coolly.

Toris nodded glumly, unsure what punishment was coming.

Mr. Beilschmidt seemed to pick his next words carefully, like delicate glass. “He's also very knowledgeable about medieval Europe and charismatic, in his own excessive way... Do you enjoy being the main sales representative, Mr. Toris?”

Not wanting to be caught in a lie, Toris stammered slightly. “I... I do my best to perform any tasks you request.” No, he didn't like selling things. Toris had purposely specialized in a job so specific, he would typically only do social functions over the phone.

“You hate selling things then.” His boss's words were clipped and to the point, just like his personality.

“Hate is a strong word sir.” Toris didn't want to be forced into any sort of opinion in front of his only employer since leaving Lithuania. He didn't know what the man wanted to hear anymore.

The German stared at Toris hard, as if looking for answers. He then smirked, having found whatever he was looking for. It was terrifying to see a German as cold as him smile. “Tell your... mate of sorts to come in tomorrow for his first shift. Eight in the morning sharp. He'll be the new sales representative.”

“He's my roommate.” Toris defended, not listened to like always.

“Of course he is.”

Just like that, the socially blunt dragon had taken over another lonely facet of Toris's life. The shy brunet couldn't find it within himself to be unhappy about this. Felix was good company after all.


	6. Chapter 6

Usually Gilbert was annoying or misguided during the summer. Not teaching his folklore history classes gave the pale brother too much time to kill. The students had been free of universities for a day, a single _day_ , when the lovable moron came crashing through the doors. Unfortunately, his far strung theories were correct today.

“Luddie, you gotta take me seriously!” Gilbert proclaimed as he invited himself into his brother's workshop area.

“What is it? Aliens?” Ludwig muttered, never tearing his eyes from a stack of bills on the desk. They seemed less frightening with the new sales guy around. Felix was selling three times more than Toris ever did.

“Not today! Today it's...” Gilbert hushed himself, closing the door behind him. In slightly lower volume he continued. “It's dragons today. I think you have one right under your nose.”

Ludwig finally paid full attention and took off his reading glasses. He responded with a statement that was so rare, even he was surprised. “I think you're right Gilbert.”

His brother was taken aback at this, having expected a more negative reply. He then grinned like a child given candy. “You believe me again!”

Silently, Ludwig nodded and slid his evidence on the desk. It was handled with care, placed on a tissue with clean gloves. It was the ultimate proof that one of his employees was a dragon. It was a simple coffee cup, perfectly intact. It was the 'Fritz' cup, once more functional.

Gilbert picked up the otherwise ordinary cup with awe and hesitant joy. Once upon a childhood, their factory worker father had a coffee cup. It was nothing special, likely from a department store of the era. But Dad loved his boys, and they loved treasure hunting. Naturally, he lied like all parents do. He claimed the coffee cup was once owned by 'Old Fritz himself' back in the day, one of the most famous leaders Prussia ever had.

The children took his word as gospel. They treasured the cup, they stole it all the time. More importantly, this made the boys take interest in history and antiques from a very early age. It was proven months later the coffee cup did not belong to a dead leader of a country that was abolished almost a century ago. All the same, it was still 'Daddy's cup'.

It had broken several years after Dad's funeral, the entire thing cracking down the middle. In ten years, Ludwig never found a single human being that could fix it. It was too abused, too handled, to be restored.

That was, until Toris fixed it to like new condition. He fixed it in _minutes_ , like magic. Only dragons had inherent magic. Other signs were subtly suggesting the crazy reality. Toris was green eyed and left handed. He constantly stunk of sulphur, no matter how faint. He was terrified of publicity. He was restoring porcelain and crystal that would otherwise end up in a garbage bin. The otherwise plain 'man' and made it look easy.

“Dad's cup. How was it fixed?” Gilbert gasped, clutching the thing to his chest.

“Toris. Fixed it in five minutes.”

Gilbert set the ordinary mug down, expression serious. “Toris _is_ the dragon. I dug through his garbage and everything.” he informed, gesturing to a plastic bag of evidence set on the floor. Normally Ludwig was disgusted at such behaviour, but human curiosity was far stronger. He cleared off the desk, and let Gilbert do the honours.

A pile of physical evidence like never before was presented. Massive reptilian skin shedding was neatly stacked. Nail clippings for claws bigger than any ever seen were presented. Burnt remains of furniture stuffing, and bills for no less than four replacement television sets. Toris's apartment was housing something larger than a car with teeth and flame breath to match.

“The best part is coming up.” Gilbert promised. He wasn't lying. A thick stack of papers was handed to Ludwig, and it was all inconclusive animal DNA tests. Gilbert had tested every single thing here. There was several photos of foot prints on the front lawn of Toris's building as well, tracked for days taken. These spanned almost every day of the week sporadically, going back months.

Ludwig had suspected something was up with Toris these last two months, but now he was certain. “I can't believe... a real dragon.” The blonde murmured. His heart fluttered at such a reality. He wanted to see a dragon more than everything else. It was the man's greatest wish. “So that's why he was so nervous around my sword collection.”

“We need to capture him for study.” Gilbert suggested, wearing that boyish grin of his.

“How? We've never actually found a mythical creature before. We don't even know what species of dragon he is.”

Gilbert was quick to dismiss his brother's concerns. “Fire obviously. What else do we need to know?”

“He is terrified of people. We can't just walk up to him and ask to submit for study.” Ludwig's rational mind went on, never stopping it's analysis. “I don't want my shop setting on fire as well.”

At this, Gilbert finally stopped pacing the tiny workshop. “That's not strategic. We'll have to ambush him elsewhere.”

The brothers silenced, until the blond smiled. Ludwig never smiled, unless for great reason. “When he leaves work. We'll drug him.” The younger quick witted man had always been the architect of their monster hunts in the past.

“We don't even know how old this one is. I don't have a pail of drugs laying around. We could kill it if the dose is too strong.” As sound as all these objections were, Ludwig damn well knew Gilbert had the supplies for this. This was the same brother that handed out zombie survival books for Christmas, and slept with a sword beside the bed. As prepared as he was for the end of the world, Gilbert was not ready for a mature relationship with another human being.

Blaring polka music announced Felix's presence as he walked into the office without knocking. The eccentric but otherwise normal boyfriend of Toris was insistent on not wearing ear buds like everyone else in the world. Whistling along, the employee dumped another sales receipt on the desk and headed out without a word.

The brothers paused their scheming, closing the door and waiting until the musical warning was gone. Gilbert seemed surprised at the employee's gall, but Ludwig was used to it after two weeks. “What about that one?” Gilbert asked, gesturing at the door.

“No, no. No way he's a dragon. A magical beast couldn't possibly survive centuries while being so... ridiculous. The smart thing is to be cautious, small...” Ludwig corrected his erroneous sibling. “... and two dragons together would be _begging_ to be caught.”

“Yes. It's definitely Toris then. Felix likely has no idea.”

“But what if he does know?”

This was a great question that made even Gilbert pause. “Well...” he began, only to pause. The idea of a human having a _full_ relationship with a dragon was intriguing yet disgusting to both men. “That's a problem we'll fix if we have to.”

“Agreed.” The hunt was on, and Ludwig was more excited than ever.


	7. Chapter 7

Felix was damn proud of a lot of things. He was was proud of his heritage, of being a mighty dragon. He was proud of his own accomplishments and survival throughout the centuries. Blending in was tough. There was one other that finally earned his admiration and trust.

He was proud of Toris. The squishy creature was a member of the worst race in the world, yet managed to retain his moral purity. Not only was Felix's favourite pet loyal and kind, he easily grasped magic. Toris was a natural wizard in the making, and he might only take a century to master the arcane. That was a short time for any dragon. The only issue was the puny expiration dates of humans. Felix didn't know how to fix that.

If only his own father hadn't been murdered by knights several centuries ago. Then Felix might know a spell to preserve his new plaything. Truthfully, the fire dragon only knew shape shifting spells and a few curses. It was so terribly difficult to find new teachers when your own race was critically endangered. This was a dark chain of thought that Felix tried to avoid. Normally, he distracted himself with shopping. This frequently changed to stealing of some form.

Stuck in the crappy antiques shop for at least three hours, Felix didn't have the internet, TV, or picking pockets to entertain himself. How frail Toris tolerated working in this dusty place for days on end was a mystery. Bored, the vivacious blond went to pick on Toris again.

“Tortor, I'm bored. I need entertainment.” Felix announced, letting himself into Toris's closet of a workshop.

“Hmm. How terrible for you.” his pet mumbled, cruelly ignoring him. The strange craftsman was far too absorbed in his latest project, a small porcelain figurine of a knight on horseback.

“Pay attention to me.” Felix draped himself around Toris, hugging him tightly from behind. Resting his head on a shoulder, the curious dragon looked at what was going on. Toris was applying some sort of alchemy liquid to the delicate figurine with a tiny brush.

“So needy.” Toris chuckled, finally setting down the stupid trinket. He seemed to blush to a pleasing shade of pink rather easily when Felix was cuddly. The great dragon could only surmise it was flattery of Felix's own scarlet body.

“No. I'm supposed to be paid attention to. Witch doctor's orders.” Felix joked. He was so certain he got that strange human joke correct this time.

Felix could feel Toris's body beat in excited tempo. He could sense most things, despite being stifled in this human disguise. “Maybe I should finish work and we can share snacks after.” the brunet suggested, relaxed in Felix's possessive hold.

“I _guess_ , if I have to.” the dragon whined, letting go.

“Thank you.” Toris replied. He offered a sweet smile, before returning to his work. A living treat of sunshine that human was.

So bored! Felix rested his head on one of the heavy display counters. He took to counting all 179 objects in the room again. He poked a ratty old tapestry on the wall. He ate all the courtesy mints Mr. Beilschmidt kept putting out for customers. Why did humans collect this antique garbage? None of it was even gold plated or gem studded. 

Two hours until it was time to return to Toris's shitty lair. No, 'apartment', the dragon reminded himself mentally. Lair, apartment... so easy to mix the words up. Mr. Beilschmidt interrupted Felix's internal monologues by entering the shop front from the back. A very broken cup was placed out in the open. The German human sighed in exaggerated manner, then hid in his office again.

A broken thing! Toris needed spell practice. Maybe he could fix this ugly cup! Cradling the coffee mug fragments with no care for their already dismal condition, Felix almost danced on his way back to Toris's side. Magic practise was so much fun when there was other people!

“Tortor, look! A thing to play with!” Felix crowed, dropping the split cup on the desk with a clatter.

Cleaning a magnifying glass, Toris finally seemed done with his latest project. He looked over at the shattered item, very casual about it. “It's broken beyond repair. You could have cut yourself holding those.” the modest brunet fretted. Another thing to enjoy about the human. A mere man worrying about a dragon getting cut by glass. It was _endearing_.

“Exactly! You should practise spells on it. It's trash anyway.”

Toris disagreed with a shake of the head. “We can't steal unattended objects and play with them. Where did you find this?”

Felix shrugged. “It was just sitting around.”

There was a long moment of contemplation, then a smirk. “I suppose there's no harm then.” Toris approached the fragmented coffee cup. He scrutinized the pieces for what felt like eternity, pushing them about, arranging them. This behaviour baffled Felix. Then again, he was absolutely terrible at repairing things.

“I think this is the closest I can get it without magic.” Toris muttered to himself, uncertain. “I don't know if I have the power to complete the job though.”

“I'll catch you so you don't fall again.” Felix promised sincerely. His poor little pet had the magic reserves of a raindrop. It was another failing of the human form, along with their cruel expiry dates. Toris couldn't do more than a parlour trick before he was exhausted.

With great caution, Toris cupped his hands around the broken thing. Felix could feel it, the silvered whispers of magic forming already. With trepidation, the weak human spoke. “Repair.” The cup pulled itself together in a few seconds. This process was always a delight to watch, resulting in a tacky coffee mug.

As expected, Toris's knees went weak. With inhuman speed, Felix was there to catch his little pet. The man was cold and tired once more, having overextended himself again. “I... I did it.” Toris stammered, a fierce shiver ripping through him. He stuck to Felix's furnace of a body, seeking warmth. It wouldn't be found when his body and soul were so overspent. Humanity was rarely capable of true magic without sacrifice. Most wizards died early, their bodies abused and scarred like drug addicts.

With a sigh, the disguised dragon patted the man on the back. “There there. Warm up Tortor.” If Toris was a raindrop of magic, Felix was a living sea. It couldn't be helped. A faint thought, a few touches of the enchanted. Felix spared a scrap of his own energies, giving them easily to his friend.

In seconds, Toris was no longer shivering. He blushed hotly, able to stand again. “I don't like when you do that.” He pouted.

“What? Being amazing?” Felix prompted.

“No. I don't like living off borrowed magic. It feels... itchy and hot.”

Felix decided to get his lazy butt off the floor as well. He technically had a job, even if it sucked. “Aw, you like it. It's like me as a holiday sweater.”

“You're distracting me from work. Shoo and take this thing with you.” Toris teased in his own way. From any other squishy human, the line could be perceived as a threat. Toris was as scary as a kitten, so it was cute.

Felix let out a long dramatic sigh. “If I _must_.”

The rest of the stupid job went by in a breeze. Felix couldn't honestly recall where he dumped the mug, it missing again after five minutes. The boring object didn't matter anyway, because it was so plain. Who wanted plain treasures for their hoard with no precious metals? Nobody, that's who.

Finally work was done. Felix practically danced as he dragged Toris out of the awful building. A stolen phone blaring polka music only enhanced this moment of freedom. “Toris, Toris! We're going to play chess, and I'm going to win this time.”

The brunet chuckled, keeping Felix in line with a few shirt tugs. The sidewalk was bustling at the end of the work day. “Maybe this time, Felix.” Some how, some way, Toris had defeated Felix in chess every single time. It didn't matter what the game was. If it was a game of logic, Felix always lost. It was hurtful to the dragon's ego, and he was determined to regain victory.

“Beating me in three moves was a fluke.”

“Of course, I'm sure you'll get it next time.” Damn Toris in his flattering kindness!

After fuming as they walked to the bus stop, curiosity came to Felix's mind. He looked to Toris like he often did, scrutinizing the visually plain human. He could never seem the find the reason this man was clearly special. It was an invisible type of talent, a lifetime of being in the shadow of greatness. It had to be, or Felix was bad at chess. This was something the dragon refused to accept, because he was good at _everything_.

“How did you get so good at chess?” Felix asked, already bored with standing at the bus stop after having just arrived.

Toris spoke casually, but his words were those of a prisoner. Solemn heavy things in a normal tone. He often downplayed everything in this manner. “I used to play more. My grandfather was mostly gone at the end, so I'd play against myself.”

Yes, the human knew sorrow rivalling Felix's own. Dead family, no friends, and years chugging along the track of life by himself. Naturally, Felix's own past was much longer. Entire countries had risen and fallen since the dragon had been hatched. So many dead human companions, only time to soothe their inevitable passing. “Sorry, I forgot...” Felix spoke softly for once in his life.

“It's fine. I need to talk about things sometimes.” _So modest_! This man would have been sainted instead of stepped on in other centuries. Felix was sure of this. He had been in those other centuries.

A sound alerted the paranoid dragon. It was a sound he first learned at a tender age. It was the click of a crossbow, however rare these days. A good crossbow bolt to the heart could kill any dragon in minutes, bleeding out too fast for regeneration to clot. Felix spun around in fear, eyes wide.

Where? Where was the crossbow bolt coming from? Had hunters found him again so soon? He fled the retched bastards only four months ago! There was too many people on the streets, too many windows to snipe from, too much noise... He could not derive the direction of his assassin.

Toris let out a pained gasp, eyes wide. Felix's sharp emerald gaze snapped to the reason why. A tranquilizer dark big enough to take out a horse was stuck in the man's side. Felix's grasp of alchemy was pretty bad, but that was definitely too much drug for one man.

Felix ripped the massive dart out in a rush as his friend reeled in pain and shock. “What... what the hell.” Toris was bleeding already from the bore of the needle as he talked. The hunters must have struck Toris by accident!

“Tortor, we gotta move!” Felix urged.

“Did I just get shot with a dart?” Toris muttered, bewildered. Felix impatiently tossed the man over a shoulder and started running for cover. Too many people and smells to figure out where to flee. Finally spotting an isolated alleyway, Felix spoke over his shoulder to Toris.

“How you feeling?”

The answer was distressing as it was slurred. “I feel sleepy...”

“Don't go to sleep on me! Tell me about your grandfather again.” Felix urged, setting the man down. He then began shifting to his true dragon form. With little to no witnesses of the act, Felix needed to get away _now_. Dragon hunters could round the corner any minute.

“You... got big. You'll get caught.” Toris mumbled, the sedatives already kicking in.

With a flick of his powerful will, The full size dragon became invisible and gingerly scooped up his friend. Clawing up the narrow spaces between buildings, the dragon launched himself hard into flight. He flapped hard and fast, fear pounding in his heart. This was easily the closest the dragon had been to getting killed in eighty years.

Soaring like a jet, Felix only stopped his frenzied retreat for one other. Toris, sheltered in large claws against the screaming wind, was beginning to fade. His heart beat was barely perceptible. They needed to land now, before the human died.

Far from town, Felix spotted a patch of woods. A local wildlife reserve, on the isolated side. It would have to suffice. Landing with barely any time to halt his flight speed, dirt and rocks flew everywhere from the impact. Toris was gently placed in the softer dirt debris, nothing but a rag doll of limbs.

“Toris?” Felix's telepathic appeals went unanswered. “TORIS WAKE UP!” Felix tried again. His invisibility took great concentration to maintain. In this moment of panic, The spell faded as the scarlet dragon's form was revealed. He didn't care if he was seen anymore. Toris was... _dying_.

“No you don't! I won't be alone again!” Felix cursed and wailed as he barraged the human's body with magic. It was all to no avail. Curse Felix's father for not teaching him healing spells! Damn the human race for striking down such an old yet pure soul!

Finally, with a slow final pump, Toris's heart stopped. The body practically hummed with unseen dragon magic, but it was all unstructured and loose. Felix simply couldn't fix the human, having no understanding of the tiny species's anatomy.

“ **NO! YOU WILL NOT DIE! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT! I AM A DRAGON OF THE RIVER WAWEL AND I DEMAND YOU LIVE!** ” Felix raged and roared outwardly in furious grief, his very voice shaking the tree canopy. No one man, not a single city would be spared fiery death! Nothing would stop Felix's revenge, and the first tool of his hate lay before him. Grasping the still warm corpse, Felix began to weep and cry in agony. The dangerous magic of anger and sadness spilled from his soul, typically locked deep within.

Felix would curse and destroy everything, and he would not do it alone. A dark desire, so powerful it eclipsed his own ego, possessed the dragon. **Toris wasn't _allowed_ to die**. It only took a snap second, before the most powerful curse Felix had ever cast formed. It was a draining exhaustive spell that took everything Felix had. 

“Live.” Felix uttered venomously, sleepy the second the spell cast. The body in his arms was quiet only a moment, then a miracle occurred. The heart beat returned. The red dragon huffed smoke in sheer surprise and relief. He had not been sure that cursing Toris to life would work. Typically curses killed people instead.

The body twitched, and moved slightly. Felix excitedly placed the body back on the dirt, and waited for his results.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short, but a bigger chapter needed to be seperated

Alfred's life had never been an ordinary one. A city boy from the deep south of the USA, he was never happy with enough. If life wasn't trying to kill you, you clearly weren't trying hard enough. With this hard nosed philosophy in hand, Alfred was damn determined to be in touch with the world. He joined boy scouts. He fought bullies bigger than him. He told his elders what to do instead of listening to them blather.

It was living in this chaos that Alfred found himself on the wilder side of the law, with an ex-assassin for a wife. With more than a little heat from his family in Texas, the blonde was currently operating out of Berlin. His office was just like at home, right down to the three 'display' guns that were still working.

It was a nice easy Wednesday, no danger, no pressing court trials. Just Alfred catching up on old paperwork. Anya could be heard chatting in rapid fire Russian to her sister on the phone. How nice, how peaceful was it that this luxury was... damn it. A rare alarm, a crackle of a Geiger counter in a drawer. Alfred had such a device modified years ago. Only the most intense of magic, destruction spells, registered on most instruments. Most sciences simply mistook magic as background radiation.

The Geiger counter was figuratively screaming as he took it out of the drawer. The needle was deep in the red. “Gosh darn it.” Alfred muttered. With a groan, he got out of his chair. “Anya!”

There was no response. Alfred walked out of his office, seeking his wife. “Anya dearest! Love of my life!” He decided to heap on flattery as well. Anya generally didn't like this type of news.

Anya re-entered the office, phone in the crook of her shoulder as she brought back the empty garbage can. She spotted the Geiger counter losing it's mind in sporadic bursts, and frowned. “I have to call you back Katya. Work stuff. Love you.” Hanging up the phone, she looked at him with deadpan expression. Like all her many faces, it was beautiful. She was like a living blade, the cutting edge of fashion and danger.

“No.” she immediately rejected his idea before it formed.

“But darlin', it's the call of adventure! Can ya hear it?” Alfred drawled, gesturing to the magic detector.

“The last time you almost died.” His wife objected flatly, setting the garbage pail back where it belonged.

“But we made a heap of money. Remember that enchanted katana I bought you for our anniversary?” Alfred recalled their last dangerous magic adventure. The threat had been a married couple, two half human sorcerer types, going through a terrible breakup after being together for three hundred years. Attracted by their building collapsing fights, Alfred made an absolute fortune in divorce court. People that lived more than a century or so had a lovely tendency to hoard treasures but forget their market value.

Anya also remembered the wealth of their last big magic job. She still trained with that breathtaking sword at home. She paused her rejection, glancing at the Geiger counter's needle as it finally calmed. “I... suppose we can look. We need to find where a spell this big is coming from.”

“Naturally.”

“... and you aren't taking any risks if it is a magical person. I'm not stitching you up again.”

“O' course.” Alfred was already packing a suitcase, barely listening. The hunger to find the unknown was deep in his blood, a trait inherited from his father. The paternal figure had died hunting down cryptids in Louisiana and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

“Then, I guess I'll pack.” Anya sighed, looking at her recently painted nails with loss. She then took the semi-automatic rifle from under her desk, and began shutting off her computer. After all, a spell this powerful could only come from an ancient source of intelligence. Intelligence promised a new client, with fabulous untold riches.


	9. Chapter 9

Toris reeled, coughing and hacking hot liquid when he first woke. His memories were fragmented. A dart, feeling dizzy, passing out. He had been cold before, but not now. Now he was hot, so hot. It took a long minute to open his eyes. It was then revealed that everything was wrong. The darkened forest surrounding him was too small. Toris seemed to be half the height of some trees in body bulk alone.

Trying to stand like a person does, he fell forward instead. This was into a pool of orange goo he had just vomited up. Clawed scaly paws stopped his fall out of instinct, splashing hot discharge everywhere. It was only after several puny trees set on fire that Toris realized something insane.

He looked around behind him with wide eyes. The fact that he could see behind himself with his long neck only confirmed things. Seeing at all in pitch darkness was inhuman. Toris was a dark green dragon slightly larger than Felix, from a quick guess. That slightly glowing vomit was lava. It was honest to goodness molten rock, or something very similar.

Panicking, Toris tried to blow out the budding forest fire with a big breath. He only let out a brilliant cone of flame instead. Now several trees were on fire. _Shit_.

With perfect timing, Felix landed from a fast flight. It made an audible impact sound and scared an anxious Toris. The large green dragon let out a spew of smoke in exhalation, startled. He steadied his racing heart, and tried to speak with his jaws. Only a few pitiful sounds and dribbles of lava came out.

“Hush hush, Tortor.” Felix cooed, making the lava and fires die with a flick of magic. Felix could sense this spell like the colours of the world, a very real and tangible thing. He took an appreciative inhale, tasting the wind for the first time. Pine scents of the forest, the sour ire of nearby animal waste, earthy soil, and Felix himself. It was almost like strawberries and primitive musk. Something clicked in his head on the animal level.

Felix was female. It was so obvious now! Felix was a _lady_ dragon, and Toris had used her like a couch for three months. He must have been so incredibly rude!

Felix didn't seem upset in the slightest, cuddling her glittering body under one of Toris's inactive wings. The new set of limbs along with his tail were not behaving. Toris tried to get the copper dappled wing to retract, but it was content to be a shelter for another. His slightly ridged tail coiled around Felix's naturally. It was a pleasant sensation, akin to holding hands in his shredded human mind.

So much curiosity, fear, and confusion. If only Toris could talk.

“I'm so... so happy you're alive.” Felix admitted telepathically, nuzzling him gently. Toris took the comfort, scared out of his mind. He then tucked his own head under hers. “Can you talk?” she prompted.

Toris tried to talk again, but only coughed a little and swallowed fiery bile quickly. He was trying to avoid burning the forest down after all. With a frustrated huff of smoke, he clawed a message of “NO” into the ruined ground.

Felix cocked his – her as Toris corrected himself mentally – head of golden horns, almost like a crown. It was elegant. Toris felt down right stupid for thinking she was a he. “No, like you don't understand? Or no like... Oh, oh, _oh_. You don't know telepathy! Is that it?” Felix prattled on excitedly.

Toris nodded and hoped he wasn't blushing. Could dragons blush? He certainly hoped not, utterly embarrassed right now.

“Just, imagine giving me the words. Focus on it and wish it real. Dragons run off desire after all. We are beings of... feeling I suppose.” Felix made it sound so easy.

Still, Toris had to at least try. He focused, imagining giving the message as a Christmas present. It was the simplest imagery he could summon, a huge fan of the holidays. The message tumbled out of him in a burst of mental noise, largely uncontrolled.

“I fell asleep but now I'm not I don't know where I am. Why am I a dragon. You're a girl. I used a girl as a sofa I'm the worst person ever. I can't stop setting fire to things I'm a monster how do I stop –” Toris's silent screaming was cut off with with a playful slap of Felix's paw. Toris resumed being scared, tucking his head under Felix's. As if he could hide from all of this.

A great laugh, rich in melody humans would never grasp, bloomed telepathically from Felix. It reminded Toris of strawberries once more. “Even as a dragon you are a marshmallow.”

“I'm not a marshmallow. I'm a dragon. Maybe.”

“So convincing.” Felix chuckled. Her expression, or rather her mental tone, instantly shifted to razor blade edges and poison. “I'm going to kill the men that murdered you. I'm going to kill that entire city if I have to.”

“Please don't.” Toris appealed, already used to speaking mentally. It seemed to be a natural process, like breathing. He laid a paw over hers and squeezed, copper and golden claws interlaced. “I'm here. That's all that matters.”

“Someone killed you. You're the only friend I've had for seventy years. You know how lonely it is to just... I don't want to talk about it. But the human responsible deserves to die.” Felix didn't need to talk about it. If the anger and razor blades were a dangerous rocky shore, the sadness was the very ocean. It washed over Toris, cold and familiar. He understood grief and loneliness better than any other. His family had died in a car accident when he was eight years old.

“Please, don't. I understand, but It won't make you feel better.” Toris knew his companion needed a distraction, otherwise she might actually destroy a city. “So why disguise yourself as a male?”

“Oh. Female humans are not respected in society. I basically shift to whatever gender is most respected at the time. I did run as a female a few centuries back to steal stuff though. Everyone blames the men in a robbery.” Felix, as usual, was easy to steer away from mass murder.

In this way they spent the days travelling, mostly hiding. They only hunted and moved at night, resting during daylight. The German air force had lost their common sense, still searching for rogue air craft over the forest. It seemed Felix had been less than subtle when he left the city, registering on radar.

Unable to shape shift or even fly, Toris was essentially crippled. This day they were a few miles south of Berlin. Toris likely gave off a heat signature as bright as a star, so he spent a lot of time brooding while partially buried in cold earth. Anything to avoid the helicopters and searching soldiers.

This didn't stop Toris from being bored though. While Felix was playing lookout or getting them supplies in human form, Toris was literally grounded. The green dragon fumed and pushed rocks around with his mind. Sometimes he even turned the rocks into glass or gems, then turned them back. 

Feats of magic that would have killed Toris before were extremely easy now. He now understood why Felix was always so amused. In his increased capacity, Toris could see the atomic structures in the rocks. He could change them just the slightest, move the bonds. It was exhilarating.

It was honestly a shame Toris didn't know better spells. In the same way Felix only mastered shape changing spells, Toris only grasped changing objects. His old life of antiques restorations affected him even now it seemed. His life, which was gone. The reality of it was hard to swallow. Toris always had a purpose before. He felt dead without one. He, by all rights, should be dead.

Sadness returned in a wave. The dirt Toris had been pushing about via telekinesis set on fire. It then randomly turned into porcelain teacups. Damn. Emotion really did control dragon magic, like Felix warned earlier. Toris was a busybody at heart. He just needed to distract himself. There wasn't any harm in digging a more interesting home to hide in.

Well maybe there was some harm.

Six hours later, There was a fake wood cabin covering the top of a gaping hole entrance. The cabin was actually dirt shaped and coloured to deceive. Beneath was a cavern freshly excavated. It was a large cavern, though not big enough to flex his wings. In the middle of detailing stone pillars, Toris was pulled out of his work trance.

“TORIS! WHERE ARE YOU!” Felix was panicking above ground. “Where did this human house come from!?”

“I'm underneath. I made a little project to pass the time.” Toris replied, shaking much of the dirt off his forest green hide. It was true, he was dusted with copper on his wings and claws. Felix was by far more brilliant. She was bright red and shining gold. In comparison to Toris's bulky form, she was a lithe jewel. It was all very humbling.

Not that Toris planned to stay a dragon. Felix's claim that this was a grief induced curse seemed legitimate enough. Neither dragon could seem to change Toris back, no matter how much effort. This essentially stopped all association with human society for the green dragon. Forever alone again it seemed.

Felix entered the hidden cavern, quick to change to her natural form. “Wow....”

“What?” Toris asked, still carving lines into stone with magic.

“I told you to lay low, not make an underground palace.”

Toris glanced at the jewel studded throne chair against one wall. It was the perfect size for a dragon's curled up form. Was it too tacky? “Perhaps I went a little far.”

“Diamond floor tiles is crazy, and all these nature scenes in the walls with gemstones...” As Felix grew in drama, Toris braced for insults and scolding in drooping posture. Finally looking over everything, Felix responded in most unexpected fashion. “... it's fabulous! Do a picture of me on a wall! In like, gold and red. Something flashy!”

The stress of the last week, hiding from the military, the shock of dying and coming back to life... A lovely portrait would be an ideal project to distract himself. He would probably go crazy without things to work on.

“I um... okay. I'll try.” Toris stammered, confused but pleased. He was so used to being accosted by outsiders that didn't understand him. Felix's enthusiasm was a welcome change. Toris approached a barren dirty wall. He set to work as he had earlier, doing as much manual work as possible to spare magic. Unlike Felix, he felt squeamish just throwing the stuff around wastefully.

A careful brushing and flattening of debris with his paws was performed. After being bored for days, this ritual was genuinely entertaining. He put the greatest of care into the request, recalling his most favourite china set. Delicate and curling, but alive with colour. A perfect depiction of Felix's true form. Eyes seeing but not seeing, he imprinted grand design against cold rock.

Thus he began to create what would be his finest work yet.


	10. Chapter 10

Two weeks of chasing around the wooded edges of Dresden, only to loop back to Berlin. Alfred was chasing a winding cold trail of magic. He was sure his wife was going to snap from frustration and break something or someone. The beautiful Russian woman was not one for camping, and made this clear from the beginning.

Deep in Schwenower Forest, the bickering couple picked through wild terrain. Trees rose high above, blocking out most light. This made the forest floor dim and eerie, despite being midday. Yet another thing Anya hated.

More grumbling as Alfred led the way. “My designer boots!” Anya whined.

“Now darlin', you should have known we'd be hiking.” Alfred teased, looking down right fancy in his Indiana Jones inspired hiking gear. Those films were easily his most favourite, inspiring him to treasure hunt from an early age.

“These are _Chanel_. Why is there so bugs in a forest?”

Alfred laughed as they followed the modified Geiger counter. Weaving between old trees, the signal from before was faint. They would need to find more clues soon, or return to Berlin at a loss. He paused, grateful for progress in the dim of this arboreal place. He finally spotted a new tracking clue.

It was a huge footprint, badly obscured in the few ferns available. The deep imprint was an arm across, bigger than every animal here. Something had tried to cover it's tracks badly, leaving a four clawed gouge in the earth. “Dinosaurs! Look honey! Real life dinosaur prints!” Alfred blurted out, imagination racing. The _prices_ Alfred would pay to see a dinosaur!

“It's not. The prints were destroyed by whoever left them. So they are smart. All the dark patches here, that's singe marks from heat.” Anya corrected, gesturing to dark banding on several trees. With this observation, she set down her own pack to get her umbrella. It was a special umbrella, fire and chemical resistant.

“We don't need that do we?” Alfred prompted.

“I'm betting whatever we're tracking is on fire, or breathes fire. It's also massive, so...” Anya fastened her katana scabbard to her waist as she talked.

“If you think so.” Alfred responded absently, looking up as well. There was many more scorch marks up high, and the smallest of disturbances in the canopy. A few broken branches to others, a clue to the trackers. It was clear something large and very hot was landing here, then walking off to parts unknown.

Pushing his glasses back up, Alfred squatted beside the track to determine a direction. A long impression of a dragging limb was barely covered, giving a new trail in the carpets of leaves and pine needles. Not that they had to go far.

The couple spotted a wood cabin, clearly decrepit and abandoned, in the misty distance. Excited, Alfred raced ahead. “Fedya! Don't you dare get killed!” his wife warned, struggling to keep up in her own impractical boots. They obviously had terrible traction in this damp dark forest.

The cabin was old, reeking of earth and smoke. A window looked shattered and yellow, on the verge of falling out of it's frame. Anya finally caught up, looking unimpressed. “Will we get Tetanus from going in there?”

“That's what gloves are for.” Alfred handed Anya a slender pair of leather gloves, donning his own cheap fabric ones. Turning the knob on the primitive wood door, it was locked. Alfred stepped aside and let his wife work. She was a great lock picker, years of experience behind her delicate motions.

After several minutes, she hissed Russian swears in frustration. “I can't pick it. The lock is full of dirt.”

“Clever, thinking they can stop us.” Alfred took off his pack and retrieved his trusty baseball bat. Walking around to another side, a big window was found. How perfect. Alfred smashed the life out of it, breaking the window to a mostly empty frame. The clatter of glass echoed far, but no one seemed to be home. Draping his coat over the jagged edge, he bowed slightly to his partner. “Ladies first.”

“So chivalrous.” Anya purred, always pleased to be tended to. She climbed in the window with sword drawn. After a minute, she called out “All clear!”

The cabin was very ordinary. It was your standard musty log cabin, trash strewn and abandoned. Everything about it was unpleasant, making anyone but Alfred want to leave. He couldn't leave. Tracks of an honest to goodness dinosaur thing led directly here. There had to be some secret to this place, some unknown mystery.

A gasp of surprise alerted Alfred as he rummaged through rotting linens in a closet. He spun around, looking to his wife. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I... broke the kitchen sink?”

Alfred cocked his head in confusion, and approached. The platinum blonde woman looked flustered, a broken tap handle in her gloved hands. The alien nature of her conundrum was clear. The metal handle was brittle and packed with dirt inside. It was like unnatural forces had compressed rotten soil into the shape of a tap handle, a thin shell of metal keeping form.

She dropped the dirt, and dusted off her hands. Drawing her deadly katana, Anya expertly sliced a thin layer of the counter away. It peeled off like old crumbling cheese, revealing more packed dirt and tiny rocks.

“What in tarnation...” Alfred ran his fingers over the long neglected log walls. They were grainy, all more soil beneath a thin crust of wood bark. “This is a house made of dirt. Nothin' but dirt. I don't know what to make of it.”

Anya looked as puzzled as him, and strolled to a dirty rug on the wood floor. It crumpled and behaved like a rug should, bunching on her expensive boots when she kicked it. Sheathing her blade, she picked up the rug and tugged at it. It tore like paper, crumbling into dry dirt. “Katya will never believe me.”

Just like that, a new secret was revealed. A trap door under where the false rug lay. Never before had Alfred's Indiana Jones get up been so damn perfect to wear. He was instantly upon the door, about to open it with excited glee. It could be trapped, but he doubted it. Any dangerous traps could potentially destabilize this strange creation. It was unlocked, silently opened on oiled hinges. The trap door lead to a dark abyss far below, inky depths promising yet more mysteries. A rope ladder lead downwards.

Before Alfred could scramble down the ladder in childish glee, Anya pulled him back by the collar of his shirt. She gave a hushing gesture, then whispered “Ladies first, dear.”

Giving a brief bow, he gestured with an open palm to the rope ladder. Leaving their packs in the fake cabin, they descended into the unknown. Only the clack of footwear on wooden rungs could be heard for a good five minutes. How deep was this unknown cavern?

Finally reaching a solid bottom, they landed on glittering smooth tile. The triangular tiles resembled ice, but that was impossible. It was downright tropical in here temperature wise, with a hint of smoke. That could only mean this was glass, or precious stone.

A gasp of excited breath wheezed out of Alfred. He could barely contain his wonder, silencing himself with a hand. He pointed to the floor.

“I know.” Anya whispered. The barely audible sound echoed far in the dark. Both people looked around with wide eyes. They tried to pierce the darkness beyond the illumination of their shared flashlight, but failed.

The echoed whisper was answered with a roar, not far away. It was a deep bellow, terribly threatening. “ **WHO DARES TRESPASS!** ” echoed in their minds clearly, reminding Alfred of daggers and fire.

“Shit! Up the ladder! Go go!” Alfred urged fearfully, clinging to his fit wife for dear life. A flume of fire erupted out of the darkness, reducing the ladder to ash at the base. The scared couple barely avoided being cooked alive themselves. In that brief moment of hot yellow flame, their attacker was revealed.

It was red scales, golden horns like a crown. White webbed wings scattered in gold, glittering and huge. A serrated jaw of teeth with glowing emerald eyes. By god, it was a honest to goodness dragon. It held such hatred for them in this moment, the only thing to rival it's impossible beauty.

They were going to die if they didn't act fast.

Officially screaming, Anya dragged Alfred behind the first obstacle they saw. It was a lovely gold statue of the very thing trying to murder them. Another blast of fire erupted over their heads, burning the top of Alfred's explorer hat. He threw it away, as it burned in earnest.

Certain they were going to die, the married couple held on to each other. Alfred trembled as the red dragon loomed over them, front claw raised for a crushing strike. The dragon's underbelly gleamed white from the melting statue that still burned.

A miracle, or perhaps their true demise, arrived. In the poor lighting, it was the ambiguous shape of another dragon, larger than the red one. It was easily bigger than a truck, with reflexes like a whip. It roared, distracting the angry scarlet dragon enough that it stopped attacking.

For a long moment the two mythical beasts just stared at each other. The red one finally breathed smoke in obvious frustration, walking to some unlit location.

“My apologies. She's in a bad mood.” another mental voice spoke, lower and softer. It had the qualities of a mossy stone, all green with rounded edges. “I suppose you can't see.”

Tall decorative braziers, easily over a dozen, were simultaneously lit. Warm light washed over a chamber only dreamed of in fairy tales. Marble pillars with winding plant based designs reached up at least three storeys to mirror ceiling. The floors shone like crystal. Dazzling wall murals of deer, cottages, and flowers were spotted with gems. Epic portraits of a certain red dragon, in a variety of settings. A throne chair of solid gold lay at the far end, big enough to park a trailer inside it.

There wasn't a trailer in it. There was a pissed off dragon so hateful 'she' burned in it. That red dragon wanted them dead. Alfred still didn't understand why he was spared. He was the first break the silence, to the horror of his wife. “Thanks for not murdering us.”

“No problem.” The other dragon replied. In comparison to this place and their attacker, the green dragon was almost invisible. It was larger, but the colour of earth and plants. It's low key verdant body barely shone at all with fail copper accents. The mighty beast was completely cancelled out by it's ridiculous environment.

“I should introduce myself.” Alfred went on, detaching from his still scared wife. He stood and straightened out his adventuring get up. He was secret glad he hadn't shit his pants in terror moments before.

“I already know who you are, Mr. Jones.”

Alfred was taken aback at this response. How did a dragon know who he was? The man had never even met a dragon before. He would remember an event so special. “I'm famous I see.” Alfred bragged. 

Anya tugged on his sleeve, partially hidden by him while mortified. “Fedya!” she scolded in an anxious whisper.

This was confirmed by the great dragon a stone's throw away. “Not particularly. I'm a client of yours. Or I was.”

“I think I'd remember having a dragon as a client.”

“Are you trying to get us killed?” Anya wheezed, ready to burst with anxiety. Not that you could tell from her divine neutral expression.

“I'm going to kill the humans now.” The red dragon threatened, sitting up in her throne chair.

“NO. He's a lawyer. He can help us.” The green one insisted, narrowing his own green gaze.

“Help with what?” Alfred piped up, his fearful trembling finally calmed. His human curiosity was now much stronger.

The response was a telepathic burst of rage and death that burned, making the humans wince. It poured from the red one like blood rain. “ **The humans murdered my Tortor! I'll kill all of Dresden, of Berlin, of Germany! I'll burn their houses to ashes! I'll eat their children in front of their parents!** ”

“She's still upset.” The green one dismissed this like it was breakfast conversation.

Alfred sincerely doubted the dragon would make it beyond one city. The advent of sophisticated radar and bullets ensured this. She would still leave one hell of a mark before getting killed though. Thousands could potentially die. Alfred had to do something here, be the hero he was meant to be. Short of killing the red dragon, he would have to bargain with her. Killing her to prevent mass murder would only piss off the green one anyway.

“So, you know who killed Tortor?” Alfred prompted, seeing an opportunity in the chaos.

“It's Toris. Just Toris. No, we don't. I was shot in the open.” the green dragon groaned, looking away in some unknown emotion over his nickname.

Toris... Toris... An image of a meek nearly invisible man with olive green eyes. The boy that pushed Alfred out of traffic years before, saving his life. It was not long before that dreadful funeral in Lithuania. “Golly, you've grown something fierce Toris.” Alfred drawled in relief. Toris, even giant dragon Toris, was a safer bet than Miss Murder curled up on her throne.

“I think I have a solution to solve all this.” Alfred proposed, grinning wide.

The angry red dragon huffed smoke in some form of irritation, but wasn't exactly saying no. “I'm listening.”

“We find who tried to kill Toris for you. We collectively hit them with a settlement so huge, It'll destroy their life.”

“Ordering a village to attack and kill the one responsible would be pleasing.” The red dragon agreed in misunderstanding.

“No, no... suing them for everything they have. Not the other settlement.” Toris pointed out, chuckling. It was a pleasant ripple of water in Alfred's head.

“That's not very violent.” Toris's obvious companion sighed.

“I'm a hell of a lawyer. I'll get the murderer's life savings, their house, their stuff. They won't even be able to buy a bus ticket in the end. If they refuse the settlement, you'll kill them anyway. It's win win!” The lawyer within was stirred and excited, suddenly blind to that fact he was dealing with a pair of fire breathing monsters. The profits to be had were incredible!

“You, _one_ human, can find the killer.” The red dragon grumbled skeptically. At least she wasn't going to burn down Berlin anymore. That was where Alfred's stuff was.

“I can hire a guy on your behalf to find him, manage all the finances. Keep things nice n' quiet.” Alfred's generous offer was shut down in an instant by the angry creature.

“No. You bring the killer to us. If I choose to spare their life, we'll do your idea. If you can't find the killer...” The air was tense as it was balmy, the threat that followed silent but obvious. It seemed there was not a lot of choices to avoiding dragon apocalypse. The red dragon waited for a response, her eyes bright with intelligence. She knew she had the upper hand right now.

This was a deal with the devil, but not Alfred's first. His prior career as a defence lawyer was evidence to that. Still, this would stop a dragon from terrorizing innocent Germans. “You've got a deal mam.”


	11. Chapter 11

Ludwig Beilschmidt was genuinely surprised when a strange lawyer visited his door. He didn't know lawyers worked this early. The man looked like a stereotypical cowboy cleaned up and shoved into a tweed suit. Alongside him was a sharp blonde woman, dressed head to toe in black. She reminded the sleepy German of a movie villain.

“Good mornin' Mr. Beilschmidt. I'm Mr. Jones, representing a lady mighty pissed at you.”

It was six in the morning, and Ludwig was not awake for this. At least, not on a Saturday. “What?” He asked with a slow blink.

“Does the name Toris Laurinaitis sound familiar?” The stranger drawled, pushing up his glasses.

Oh _shit_. Ludwig panicked a little at the name, waking up mentally. Recalling seeing Toris bleed immediately after getting hit by a custom crossbow dart... The German brothers instantly knew they were wrong. That little shot should have been nothing to a dragon, even one in disguise. Their thick scaly hides transferred protection to them in many forms. Seeing Toris's body bleed in dramatic fashion proved they had made a fatal mistake. That many drugs in a regular man would kill him in minutes.

“So, I see you know the fella.” Mr. Jones commented, smug as he ran a finger over his moustache.

“Is he alive?” Ludwig asked, too nervous and guilty to lie.

“He died temporarily, and his girlfriend wants to sue you for everything you got. You're in a bit of a pickle mister... unless y'all can sit down to discuss a settlement.” Insane American accent aside, the lawyer's words held terrifying weight.

“O-of course I'm willing to discuss a settlement.” The scared German replied, hoping his guilt didn't show. He had legitimately thought Toris was a dragon. Ludwig didn't even know the plain yet quirky brunet had a girlfriend at all. If anything, he was some variant of homosexual with his “roommate”. Unless Felix used to be a girl? Damn these modern gender identities.

Ludwig turned to close the door and get dressed in day clothes. He didn't want to wake his own Italian sweetheart of a girlfriend. Felicity had passed out cold while watching decorating shows the night before. She was still sprawled on the couch, snoring under a blanket. So beautiful, even in drooling rest.

Distracted by the sight of his girlfriend from the front door, Ludwig only caught the tail end of a conversation. “... might as well do it now.” The American lawyer sighed.

“If that's what you want my dear.” His wife purred in a sweet voice edged with strong Russian influence. A second later Ludwig received a sharp blow to the head. He fell, unconscious. The last dimming memory was if Felicity was going to be okay.

When he woke up, Ludwig was certain he hadn't woke up at all. He was tied to a metal chair, thick rope binding him still. The room Ludwig was in was unearthly in it's beauty. The ceiling vaulted so high Ludwig could barely see details of the etched mirror ceiling. Massive murals of a great red dragon lavished every wall. Rarely, a little brunet man would accompany the red dragon in the pictures. The man's image was plain and unadorned in comparison to the mythical beasts and jubilant hunting scenes.

Just when Ludwig thought the decorated marble pillars were too much, he looked down. Between his bound feet, there was glittering tile in elaborate triangular design. It looked like diamond or crystal, or at least very pure glass. “This is a dream.” The German whispered.

“This is no dream. We were _stolen_.” Gilbert complained, loud like usual. He too was bound to a chair, a few metres away. He was still in improvised sleeping clothes, a ragged university sweater and jogging pants.

“Then... Then we are in a dragon temple.” Ludwig replied, unable to stop a small smile.

“Does it matter? We were kidnapped from our houses!” Gilbert's raucous complaints echoed off the walls and the colourful stone braziers. There was sound that finally responded, making the pale brother silence.

The tack of heavy claws on floor, like a dog larger than a horse. From an archway almost three storeys tall and clad in oriental patterns, the impossible emerged. A dragon. A real life dragon bigger than a small house, in green scales flecked with copper. A dragon. _A real dragon_. Ludwig temporarily forgot how to breath normally, gasping a little from excitement.

“Dragon.” Ludwig stammered, finally losing his cool. Gilbert meanwhile, was frozen with eyes locked on the sight.

The dragon took notice, olive green eyes glimmering with life as they glanced over the bound men. The odd lawyer and the secretary he was very affectionate to also entered the room. Their conversation was easy to hear, the acoustics in the room wonderful.

“... so that should be everything. I last minute printed one form and assuming they sign, we should be all clear.” Mr. Jones went on, talking to the thing big enough to eat him. The dragon nodded, a little smoke spilling from his his toothy maw. 

“So, you are awake.” a deep voice greeted in Ludwigs mind. It was old forests and worn stone by a riverside, more so than a singular sound or feeling. It took a minute to realize this voice was emanating from the green dragon.

“The dragon is talking to me.” Ludwig wheezed, his boyhood dream now fulfilled. His groggy brain was having trouble processing things at the moment. His wonder sharply turned to terror.

A second dragon, only larger than a truck but still comparable to the green one, walked in through the roomy archway. It was red like rubies, dazzling with it's golden crown of horns. Back spines, even the white webbed wings, everything was splattered in natural golden shine. This was clearly the showboat of dragons, making the other one seem invisible. It too spoke with telepathy.

“ **I'm going to kill them.** ” A voice of fire and hate. It was so angry it made both German brothers flinch.

“No, we talked about this.” The calm voice of rivers and forests countered.

“ **KILL THEM.** ” The brief bickering of the dragons reminded Ludwig of a married couple. Without warning, the red one charged to attack. A blur of scarlet scales and the men's deaths. It was tackled to the ground only six metres from them, A jaw of sharp teeth leaking fire and smoke pinned to the floor. The green dragon was keeping Ludwig alive for unknown reasons, and the scared man was eternally thankful.

“We're here to talk out a truce and a settlement. Remember?” The way the red dragon writhed and clawed at the floor while sat on, it clearly had other ideas. A furious emerald eye was fixed on the brothers, pupils narrowed to a predatory line. It was absolutely _pissed_.

Jogging to come over due to the sheer size of the room, the lawyer had a huge briefcase in hand. “Let's get this meeting goin' before anything fiery happens.” The man panted a little from the jog, but his probable partner was fine in her long designer dress. “Table please?”

The green dragon silently complied, dragging a claw over the crystalline floor and damaging it. A solid glass table magically constituted itself into being. It rose out of the floor like it was water, before levelling flat and solidifying into place.

Seemingly alright with this event, the lawyer placed his case on the fresh table. “Now I'm representing this colourful lady here. First of all, Miss Feliks Lukasiewicz of the order of red serpents, from the rivers of Wawel... I said that right?” Mr. Jones paused, looking to the scarlet dragon.

“Yes.” The dragon hissed mentally, finally calm under the mass of her companion. It more resembled a cuddle now, even if the apparently female dragon was still murderously angry.

“Anyway... she claims you killed Toris Laurinaitis. We have strong evidence to support this claim, and I highly recommend you explain yourself, then agree to a nice friendly settlement. That way no one dies.” The lawyer went on, meeting blue eyes eyes with Ludwig. The man gestured to a clear garbage bag with the homemade tranquilizer dart the width of several fingers. Several surveillance pictures of Ludwig with a crossbow were also present, Gilbert beside him.

The certainty of these words hit home hard. The brothers were going to die unless they toed a diplomatic line. They had accidentally killed the companion of a dragon after all. “I thought Toris was a dragon, the amount of drugs should have only slowed him down.”

“ **I was the dragon you moron! Toris was my wizard apprentice! I'm going to kill you and grind your bones into paste!** ” Felix the dragon growled, her violent promise feeling very real right now.

“I'm not dead now.”

“It's the only reason I haven't levelled Dresden to a crater.” The red dragon fumed more quietly to her friend.

Everything clicked into place as the two dragons chatted with increasing affection. Toris. Felix. Ludwig's shop employees were honest to god dragons. There had been two dragons under his roof for three months and he didn't even notice until the last minute. Ludwig burned with shame at his skill as a monster hunter.

“I don't understand, Toris should dead then.” he finally spoke with careful words.

“I resurrected him into something less frail.” The red dragon bragged, accenting her own vanity with a puff of smoke and a fanged grin of sorts.

“I was killed though.” Toris confirmed softly, undeniable sadness to his communications. “I need to know why you killed me, Mr. Beilschmidt.”

“I didn't mean, I... I only wanted to study your species. It's all I ever wanted.” Ludwig confessed easily, genuinely upset inside.

“We wanted to know about cryptids and rare monsters.” Gilbert added, unusually humble for once.

“You know how boring it is to live more than one thousand years? I would have told you if you asked. **Instead you had to kill my only friend for the last seventy years. Because you were _curious_. I'm going to kill your entire tiny race unless you give me damn good reason not to.**” The red dragon once more fumed actual flames, barely stopping herself from attacking. Large golden claws dug into the floor, cracking the tile.

Ludwig personally had his doubts one dragon could stop the entire German military. She could still take a bloody chunk out of it though. That would be a publicity disaster and waste of human life. “What do you want?”

“I want you to suffer for a hundred years. I want both your shitty lives to be as lonely as mine! I want to destroy everything that brings you joy.” The more the dragon talked, the more something startling was revealed. She wasn't speaking out of hate. Felix was raging out of deep _grief_ , perhaps centuries of it.

Ludwig had more than killed a man, he had made a dragon incredibly sad. Two dragons, actually. It was clear now, he was not going to survive this legal encounter. “There's nothing I can do to save myself is there?”

“No.”

“Now, I think we can hammer out some sort of –” The lawyer interjected, only to be cut off.

“I'm going to kill you now. Both of you.” The fiery dragon concluded calmly.

“There has to be something we can –” Gilbert's bargaining was cut off with a whip like flick of the red dragon's tail. The cracking impact sent Gilbert's chair flying sideways a few metres. The now bloodied brother lay still, silent on the floor.

Just as golden claws wrapped around Ludwig's chest and began to crush his ribs, salvation came.

“Please Felix. No more death.” Toris appealed, interlacing his own copper brown claws with Felix's shining ones. It was sentimental hand holding by any other brand, no doubt. It seemed to work, miraculously.

“ _ **FINE!**_ I won't kill anyone. He's still getting punished though.” Felix groaned, dropping Ludwig to the floor. The man gasped for air painfully, his left arm paralyzed in agony. No doubt it was broken or fractured.

A second later, Ludwig and Gilbert were roughly grabbed off the floor like dolls. Felix's emerald eyes glowed with menacing power, tendrils of lime luminescence trailing towards the broken men's forms. It was like an burning smoke, a magic that visually wrapped around them like a haze.

“I'm going to do something that makes you wish you died instead.” The great magical beast promised maliciously.


	12. Chapter 12

Ludwig had difficulty recalling much after the dragon knocked him unconscious. Apparently him and Gilbert were discovered on the local road. They had broken ribs, and concussions. Ludwig's left arm ended up in a cast. It was still fresh and white. He still wasn't sure how he ended up in a hospital at all, but he was happy for it.

Still groggy on morphine and cheap hospital food, The grown man barely noticed much, until the one person he would notice appeared. It was his girlfriend, Felicity. Honey sweetness with wavy brown hair, she was the love of his life. “Poor Luddie, I was so scared when you went missing!” She hugged and kissed him in animated Italian fashion. He adored her attentions.

“Missing?” Ludwig mumbled, mind foggy. Vague memories of dragons, revelations, a great temple... Oh his head hurt so!

“Yes, you vanished in the early morning, according to our neighbour. Carried out by a strange couple. Do you remember anything about that?”

It took a moment, but he did know the couple that took him. They had been very straightforward, if blunt in stealing him away. Ludwig understood why they did such a rude thing in retrospect. How else did you get legal clients to meet up when one of them lived in a glamorous secret temple? To see a real dragon at all!

“No, I don't. Someone knocked on the door then... I was on the road. I think I was drugged.” he lied, feeling guilty. He hated lying to the love of his life. No doubt he would have to keep his story straight for the cops.

Ludwig's life was quick to resume after that strange day. With his goal of meeting a dragon, and surviving the encounter achieved, each day became precious. Whatever the dragon's curse upon the Beilschmidt brothers was, it was hardly fatal. Gilbert seemed to only get better, his vision improving gradually over a year. Ludwig's own injuries healed in record time.

The shop was doing well, and Ludwig was quick to propose to his long time girl. Felicity accepted, of course. The wedding was beautiful, as was their brief honeymoon to a lovely Hungarian ski lodge. Ludwig was so in love, he didn't even notice abnormalities until a good two years past. The fact that the years moved by so quick should have been the first hint.

Currently he was busy freaking out silently about his second hint. It had been early morning, and the tired blond had royally messed up grabbing a pair of scissors. Things like this could happen. He was human after all. Even so, this was embarrassing. Rushing to the bathroom, he finally saw the wound.

The small cut in his palm was bleeding the wrong colour. It was a red so dark it was almost black. Humans don't bleed inky red. He barely had time to hide the wound, knowing the dragon's curse was the cause. The wound hid itself, sealing shut and healing before his very eyes. It healed... wrong. The new sliver of skin was scaly and dark, as if dry. It didn't look human.

He had it inspected by a doctor proper, and they were baffled. It was still human skin but the texture was alien. Ludwig was much more careful after that day. Still, there was more obstacles to arise. It was the third year of marriage, and Felicity wanted a child. She wanted that more than any other wish. Ludwig was more than pleased, wanting a small pack of children himself. This hope made the truth all the more crushing.

Ludwig was as barren as a dead tree. Further more, his blood tests defied common sense. One of the slides apparently had a hole melted in them. The lab assumed human incompetence caused this. He knew the truth, desperate to remain normal. Attempts to hide his developing nature only grew more obvious.

It was year five of marriage and Ludwig was still happy, but his wife wasn't. Felicity wanted a _family_ , all the works alongside it. Her decorating career was not enough anymore, and it was obvious in her actions. Ludwig didn't know how to solve this, or his own worsening condition. How did you tell your adoring wife you were cursed by a dragon for killing it's boyfriend? Blue about the whole situation, he was at the local bar with his brother.

Gilbert was in considerably worse condition, his right arm in a cast. His limb wasn't actually broken, but it was pearly white with inhuman scales. The fingers ended in sharp black claws that could cut glass. Neither man knew what to make of it. Nursing beers in a dark corner, the siblings brooded.

“Maybe we shouldn't have pissed off a dragon.” Gilbert finally spoke, his form cloaked in a long coat. Even his eyes were unnatural these days, bright red like human blood.

“Maybe... I'm having trouble at home.” Ludwig finally admitted. It was a shame, yet also a lightening of weight to speak of the heavy topic.

“The kids thing.” Gilbert echoed.

“Yeah.”

“You should have broke it off and lived a life of solitude like me.” the older brother warned, eyes cast away before another chug of beer.

“I couldn't. I love her too much... You're not doing well yourself.”

At this Gilbert's pride flared. “I'm doing just awesome, and I don't need help.” He slammed a fist on the table, his nails already changing into dark talons. He realized this, receding more into the shadows. The glorious showoff of a man seemed pained to do so.

“You shouldn't even be in town like this.” Ludwig was a bit of a hypocrite himself, most of his hands covered in smooth black scales. He hadn't been around others without gloves for a good year now. Keeping Felicity in the dark was becoming impossible, and she was quick to catch on.

In the midst of their quiet drinking, a stranger approached. He was wheaten blonde, freckled and rather polite. “Excuse me, are you the Beilschmidt brothers?” He wore a wool sweater of the whitest white, like driven snow. It only seemed to reflect his obvious purity.

“That all depends on who _you_ are.” Gilbert retorted, being a smart ass. Ludwig smacked him.

“I'm Matthew Kirkland. I'm certain you're both cursed and I came to help.” The strange person offered.

“This is not the place for such discussions.” Ludwig didn't outright reject the offer, quite desperate for a cure.

“I understand, I have a place in mind. Please follow me.” Matthew volunteered.

Exchanging skeptical looks, the brothers followed the man into parts unknown of Berlin.


	13. Chapter 13

It had been six years since they left Germany. Toris and Felix were completely done with the place. After Felix extracted her revenge, they genuinely tried to live in peace. Hikers, UFO hunters, and paranormal investigators constantly besieged their little home south of Berlin. Felix would have to pretend to be human, sometimes for hours, until the guests left unsatisfied. Of course, Felix wanted to eat them. Some days, Toris wanted to as well. Why did they keep interrupting his naps?

Craving privacy to simply be dragons, the pair moved again and again. They moved so often, they lived out of travel packs. This movement was almost impossible to manage, because Toris couldn't shape shifting yet. Moving from one patch of forest to another, they soon found themselves at the biggest barrier of all.

The Atlantic ocean lay before them, cold, dark, and unapologetic. Both dragons had been driven to the most western shores of Scotland. It was quiet now, but some of the locals openly believed in the fae and ghosts. It was only a matter of time before nosy humans came poking in around.

Both exhausted and weary, they sat in defeat at the edge of the sea cliff. Cushioned by verdant grass creeping up to the edge, the couple looked glum. Felix, an eternal optimist, finally seemed to break. She sagged on the ground, a mournful song of a mental voice.

“All I wanted was to be left alone.” She whispered sadly.

“I know Felix.” Toris soothed, putting a wing around her in comfort.

“It's not fair Tortor. There's billions of humans on the planet, and two dragons can't be left alone.”

“I... I can't make it across the Atlantic. I'm not a good endurance flyer.” Toris admitted, cuddling his companion with entwined tail.

“No dragon is. We weigh a ton by design. We're more... sprinters.” Felix explained glumly.

“Are you calling me fat?” Toris joked, nuzzling her neck.

A faint curl of smoke, a chuckle at last. Seeing Felix sad these past few hours was not acceptable. “Maybe... Do you think there will be consequences?” She asked, referring to events of one month past.

Toris only felt more heated at the topic. A month earlier, they had been hiding out in the English countryside. In a nice copse of trees far from any roads, The scenery was just so romantic and the chemistry... well, Toris fucked Felix senseless. He hadn't intended to, but the bestial dragon side of his mind won out. It had been a very long time for the former man, and the dry spell broke. Truthfully, Felix wasn't helping. She was even hornier than him.

“There will definitely be consequences.” Toris mumbled, burning with bashful human emotions.

“Do you think we could...” Felix hinted at him flirtatiously.

“We're in an _open field_ Felix.”

“But I want to.”

Toris rolled his eyes, even if a good third of him was on board with the terrible idea. “Not in an open field.”

Felix groaned mentally. “You're not fun.”

“Oh, sorry for not having sex with you every time we take a break.” Toris teased. A fraction of him really wanted to though. Being with Felix was just amazing, their very magic mixing in the pleasurable act. It was sex with extra dimensions to it.

“Apology accepted, Mr. Boring.” Distracted from the fact they were completely trapped in Scotland, they lay in long needed rest. They had been flying low for hours, trying to find a cave or anything to hide in for the night. So far the hilly grassland was not yielding sanctuary.

It started raining, chilly and heavy. Toris hated laying in the rain, getting all muddy and cold. “Being homeless sucks.” Felix complained, hiding more of her body under his wing. Toris was the official umbrella, since his wing span was slightly larger. He didn't much enjoy this job.

“I know... I know.”

Done for the day, The couple curled together for warmth in the rain. They had eaten a few sheep earlier in the day as a light snack. They were still picking wool out of each other's teeth by nightfall.

“UGH I hate sheep. Why didn't we hold out for a few horses?” Felix complained as her jaw was opened wide. Toris meticulously burned away stray wool bits, his own teeth finally clear after an hour of grooming.

“You were getting hungry. I didn't want you losing your head and eating a farmer.” Toris soothed. Felix didn't contest this. They had almost killed and eaten a horseback rider already in the beginnings of starvation. France had not been fun to hunt in, with almost no large game to support two adult dragons. Scotland was no better, with only sheep and birds as regular menu items.

Both dragons knew the unspoken problem over their souls. The only suitable dinner option left in most places was humans. Toris didn't want to contemplate such a grisly existence. There lay a problem with no solution.

_Toris was still hungry._

Ignoring the grumbling of his stomach, he finished grooming Felix and nuzzled her. “I'm sorry, the soil here is too wet and soft to dig into. Otherwise I'd make us a cave.”

“It's the thought that counts.”

It really didn't though. Felix was just being nice. Truth of the matter was they were fucked unless they found a new place to hide and survive. The dragons tried to wait out the rain, needing good wind to fly. It was clear the weather would not cease, so Toris groaned and stood on all fours.

“Where are you going?” Felix asked, shaking droplets off in vain when her living umbrella moved.

“I'm not rotting in this rain. I can't fly in this, but I can walk.” Toris looked back a moment. “Are you coming?”

“Of course, Tortor.”

So they walked the soggy back country of Scotland. Hours passed and night fell, but the horrid place called Scotland gave no bounty. Not a horse to eat, not a stray sheep, nor a single deer. Toris felt like he was going insane from his hunger. He just needed something to take the edge off, before he lost his morality.

Finally salvation came. A white cloaked rider approached in the distance, atop a dappled horse. The stranger's aura sang of magic even from this distance. This was the first being other than Felix to be innately magical. Unfortunately, Toris was in no mood to care. He reared high and opened his wings, roaring in mock aggression.

The horse whinnied in terror, bucking it's rider. It didn't have time to flee or even turn. It was ripped in half and consumed by two starving dragons before it make another cry. Bone snapping and gore passing with the pouring rain, the horse remains was nothing but a dirty saddle and a thrown away pack of goods.

Realizing how frightening he had become, Toris settled his composure. Felix meanwhile gnawed on the last of a leg bone. “My apologies. I'm really hungry.” The green dragon offered genially. With his mind returned, he was quite curious about this magic stranger.

“No, I should have said something first. I was rude to simply ride up to you.” The stranger replied, even more polite in his unnaturally clean robe of white and violet. He revealed what lay beneath that white hood finally. A freckled sweet face, framed by wheaten blonde hair. If it wasn't for those pointed ears and lavender eyes, the man could pass for human.

“But I ate your horse. I was at fault.”

“I should been more respectful and brought snacks. I mean, I was intending to talk to both of you anyway.”

“But I insist, I –”

Felix interrupted the proceeding train of politeness like a crash. “For the love of magic! Can we get passed this? Who are you?”

The small man stood and bowed, his clothes clean an instant after getting out of the mud. “I'm Matthew Kirkland. I'm a cleric of sorts. I'm here to find you two specifically.”

“Why?” Toris asked, highly skeptical. How the pointy eared stranger found them at all seemed impossible. They had been flying in spurts all day to cover as much land as they did.

“You see, I'm a collector of endangered species. Being one myself, I like to preserve the living mysterious of this world.” Well, that sounded weird.

“Well isn't that pleasant?” Felix muttered sarcastically. “So you want to put us in cages?”

The little man waved his arms in refusal, flustered. “No, no, far from it. I just... I want to help. At least, before you get murdered by that nearby township.”

“What do you mean?” Felix replied, cocking her head.

“The locals think a wolf is eating their sheep. They're already organizing a mob hunt.” The fair haired Matthew explained, gesturing to some abstract location behind him.

“Fuck. _Fuck_. It's been a week and we're already being hunted.” the red dragon cursed, stomping in frustration. Mud splattered from the action. Toris offered his companion soothing mental imagery, impressions of joy. “No, this isn't the time to be calm! We're going to be dead if we don't find you shelter.”

“No need for stress. We can talk in my guest quarters.” Matthew offered.

“Where? We're in the middle of a – woah that is amazing!” Felix's wonder was genuine as Matthew performed a most beautiful spell. With a wave of a hand, a door way appeared from nothing. It was carved with ancient runes, tall enough for Toris.

“I hope the quarters are big enough. There's so many types of dragons, the manual was unclear on heights or lengths.” As Matthew chatted politely, the magic door swung open. Impossibility, wonderfully, an entirely different space lay beyond. It was a charming living room with love seats and bookshelves. It was warm looking and lovely, while dragon sized.

Skeptical, Toris tested the door edge with a paw. Despite being cut clean out of reality, the portal was solid to grip. A delicious smell drifted out from this mystical space. To hell with it. Toris looked back one time, then went in.

“Toris?” Felix called out uncertainly, walking closer. Poking a head in the space, she took a cautious sniff. She then spotted Toris doing the unimaginable. “You bastard! You're eating all the stuff!” She roared, both mentally and physically. 

Toris was indeed eating a tray of very large butter tarts on a table. “No I'm not.” he lied blatantly.

“Give me some you greedy snake.” Felix ran in after the treats.

“I baked them myself, well, before they were enlarged.” Matthew went on, pulling the door shut one panel at a time

Mouths full of tart big enough for dragons, the duo looked back. “So, you're interested in us?” Felix asked.

“In a way. See, I believe you're the last Polish fire dragon left. I've looked everywhere in Poland, in Europe, in Russia. I'm... I'm exhausted thinking about it. But here you are!” Matthew's enthusiasm was infectious as he loosely gestured to the room. “Please, sit, eat. I'd love to chat, if you have the time.”

The two dragon exchanged a look, then glanced down at their strange host. “Can't be any harm.” Toris agreed. Settling on a soft couch, Toris was so glad to not be in mud and rain. A minute later, Felix joined him, resting her head on his curled up loaf of a body.

“So I'm famous.” Felix bragged, using Toris as furniture while on furniture. The green dragon didn't mind.

“You're the rarest of the large species left in Europe. One of the only large species left actually. Except... you.” Matthew's inquisitive eyes looked over humble Toris as he was leaned on. “I have no idea what species you are.”

“Toris is... unique. One of a kind. A real sweetheart.” Felix went on, as if a leading authority on such things.

“Please. I'm just a guy from Lithuania.” Toris dismissed meekly.

“Well. A _modest_ dragon. How rare.” Matthew sat in a human sized chair, flipping through one book after another. “Lithuanian... Lithuanian... I don't see any species like you at all. Maybe... No. Where did you hatch, if you don't mind me asking? Is it just Toris, or is there a very long surname I should be aware of?”

“I'm Toris Laurnaitis. I well... I'm this way under unusual circumstances.” Toris explained vaguely, unsure if he should say much more.

Matthew set his tome down, putting his fingers together in thought. “My apologies, but these books won't help a bit. So... was it a curse?” Those soft lavender eyes hid vast intelligence it seemed.

Both dragons were downright shocked he guessed it right away. “How did you...” They wondered in distant unison.

“I've been alive a few centuries. You know a curse when you see one. It's nothing.” The deceptively young man dismissed his own credentials. Toris secretly wondered if the non-human was insane from loneliness. Unsure if Matthew was also telepathic, he kept the thought to himself.

“Well. We have the time to discuss my curse.” Toris volunteered. As insane as this immortal wizard could be, he might be able to help. Toris no longer yearned to be human after over five years on the run. He now understood the discomfort Felix had around humanity. One thing he did wish to be was smaller than a cottage.

Survival would be so much easier if Toris could just look _normal_.


	14. Chapter 14

Gilbert had game. He had class. He was awesome... or at least he used to be. These last four years had been savage to Gilbert's colossal ego. Ludwig was always the lucky brother. His curse appeared more slowly from great care and caution. Gilbert had never been one for slow methodology. A year and a half into being cursed, he was involved in a very exciting bar fight.

Despite Gilbert winning the drunken brawl, he lost everything.

The black eyes healed back in half the expected time. Gilbert's vision improved as well, with pronounced side effects. White reptilian scales had grown in where pale human skin was supposed to be. His irises were burning red like living coals. This inhuman new appearance was perfectly fine for Halloween parties, but not the best look for giving university lectures.

In an instant, his career died. Years of folklore and history research were down the drain, degrees, social life... everything.

Now Gilbert was profoundly alone. Well, not entirely, not anymore. The extrovert had his brother to visit him, and medical visits from the strange Matthew Kirkland. That non-man was one hell of a mystery. Out of touch, out of time, and forever politely curious. It was thursday, glorious fabulous Thursday. Doctor visits were the highlight of Gilbert's now bleak life.

He paced in his isolated cabin. It was immaculately clean, even so, he checked the place again. Running a claw over the top of the bookshelf, not even a speck of dusk was trailed upon. Nervous. Why was Gilbert nervous? He didn't need to be nervous. This was his only visit for six days was all. He wasn't going insane for lack of entertainment. Reading the same 75 books twelve times was _fun_.

Please let the doctor come soon.

Twenty minutes past. The tick of the clock echoed in the room. Tick tock. Tick tock. God, Gilbert couldn't take it. This close to a real person, _minutes_ away. Finally three soft knocks. The nearly albino man almost squeaked with anticipation, taking a second to breathe before opening the door. He had to act cool after all.

Opening the door, his collected calm shattered. “Mattie! You're on time!” He gushed, so damn desperate for attention.

Matthew seemed surprised at the warm welcome. “As I try to be. May I come in?”

“Yeah, I put out snacks and... tea.” Gilbert's very awesome welcome trailed off forlornly, glancing at the presentation on the coffee table. Only a few cookies left, stale and previously shown. It wasn't for lack of trying. Ludwig could only drop off groceries so many times a month while suffering in his own way.

“You don't have to impress me, Professor Beilschmidt. Your intelligence alone is enough.” The good doctor complimented him, in that barely audible voice of his. It might as well been yelled through a megaphone, for how it echoed in his mind.

Was Matthew flirting with him? Was Gilbert going insane from cabin fever and hearing what he wanted to hear? Best to play things safe. “Well, I guess we can start the examination on the couch.”

“That seems fair.” Matthew agreed, setting up his bronze medical tools. Gilbert was familiar with some from pictures of historical excavations. Others were covered in glowing runes, curved like crescent moons. It was all rather intimidating, not that the human would admit it.

Slowly, methodically, Matthew measured the spread of the lizard scales now covering Gilbert's arm and side. He clucked his tongue and took off his glimmering examiners glasses. “I'm sorry Professor. This curse is spreading more aggressively than I thought. I can't slow it down without causing you immense pain.”

“My life is over anyway... and you can call me Gilbert.” The man replied tiredly. He already knew this, ripping a scale off years before. There was nothing human left beneath.

At this suddenly sombre tone, The freckled doctor became flustered. “I didn't mean to make you sad!”

“I was already sad. You've done nothing wrong.” Gilbert clarified, with a half cocked smile. It drooped after, to its original frown.

“There must be something we can... You can read. You have plenty of books here.”

“I've read everything here twelve times.” It was true. Gilbert's most prized tomes were now worthless to him after several year alone with little else. Internet forums were an alright way to blow off steam... Not really all that much to the former bar denizen.

Matthew leaned in, his professionalism gently betrayed. “I have books. I've already read a lot of them. I could loan one out if you don't tell anyone.”

A chance at new input. Gilbert's brain crawled for a chance to exercise it's innermost professor. “Yes, that would be awesome.”

“I'll... I'll be right back. I hope you can read Latin.” Matthew spoke as he did mystic gestures. A small door the height of him appeared, made of ornately carved wood with ancient Germanic design. The portal seemed to support itself in thin air, a finger's width off the floor. Rarely did Matthew show this trick, that it was still amazing.

Gilbert had the impulse control of a child. Seconds after Matthew left, he dashed towards the magic door. Sticking his head in, he was awestruck.

It was a massive well lit library, so sophisticated yet primitive. Floating candles cast unnaturally bright light far distances, revealing cells of book chambers infinitely high. This one had walls lined with scrolls in immaculate condition. Several scrolls were on the central semi-circle desk, the insignia of the Roman Empire only slightly worn on the scroll casing.

Gilbert's heart fluttered in only the joy a historian could feel. An actual Roman artifact in pristine condition. With no concern for Matthew's privacy, Gilbert ran into the room to investigate. A glint of metal caught his eye one archway over.

It was a room full of nothing but ancient currency, looking fresh and new in their glass cases. There was easily thousands of coins going up the wall. One spot was newly filled with a fresh frame. Inside, a single euro from 2015 was displayed. It was worthless to Gilbert, since it was next to a grivna from the ancient Kievan Rus'. Lost in this room for unknown time, Gilbert was startled by a sudden sound.

“Gilbert! You could have got lost in here! We need to go back.” Matthew fretted, jogging into the room. His appearance was different enough to be striking from when he was in Gilbert's terrible cabin. The goofy 'dad' sweaters were really ancient style robes of simple cut and cloth. Matthew's ears were pointed like those of elves from Nordic and Germanic legend.

“You're an elf!” Gilbert blurted out excitedly. “My doctor is an elf! My folklore degree is finally paying off!”

Matthew looked stunned his true nature was guessed so quickly. “I... well. We should get back. There's a lot of things here you shouldn't see.”

“No, I need to stay. Think of all the testing you could get done here in your lab type place!” Gilbert insisted, hoping the physician actually had a office.

This made the elf falter, then pause to think. The expression was universally known to any teacher, a brow furrowed in contemplation. “I suppose. But only a few minutes.”

After almost ten minutes in the maze of a library, they emerged into a large cluttered living space. It was separate from the artifact areas, the walls painted with evergreen forests. Matthew seemed ashamed of the place, quick to drag an inquisitive Gilbert past it.

The doctor did indeed have a rough clinic of sorts. It was really a loose collection of medical tools from across the millenniums, scattered on tables and in bins. Several posters of humans and some mythical species hung on the wall, labelled in Latin.

“With your permission, I've always wanted to try a few tests. I'm most interested in the _nature_ of your curse, since I never met the sorcerer that cast it. Each spell has it's own unique finger print of it's maker, and... and I'm rambling. I'm sorry. I haven't had guests in a while.” Matthew silenced himself, teenage levels of awkward with this whole visiting concept.

“It's okay, I'm awesome with tests.” Gilbert volunteered, so conversation starved this was genuinely thrilling. It turned out to be nothing. The 'measuring of his aura' or something less than tangible. But still the start of a strange tradition.

Every Thursday, Gilbert stole another visit, then another. He was soon out of the dry clinic area, and being shown the colourful kitchens. Officially his third visit, Gilbert starting picking out subtle signs of the mentally unhealthy. He had assumed the common pathways were darkened lines by design. He imagined it was like those lines on the floor in shopping malls, guiding mindless or lost patrons to the food court.

This theory was banished when the dark lines were examined further. The edges were organic, rounded. They were made by pacing. This was the very same mad pacing Gilbert was guilty of in his desolate little forest cabin. So many questions arose, but one was higher than all the others.

How long had Matthew been here by himself? Decades? Centuries? It surely took quite a while to wear a path in the floor this pronounced. As Matthew busied himself with frying eggs for Gilbert, the human dared to walk closer to his host.

“Matthew?”

“Hmm?” the elf hummed, not looking over yet.

“How long have you been by yourself?”

The question cut through this comfortable moment like a knife. Matthew froze up, nearly dropping the spatula onto his medieval iron frying pan. “I... I'm fine.” he lied badly, resuming his task.

“Matthew?” Gilbert prodded verbally again, now behind the slightly taller male.

“Yes, Gilbert?”

Without another sound, the pale human hugged his host. Gilbert felt each stage of processing the interaction through Matthew's tense body. Shock, confusion as he twists around in the grasp. Fear in those violet eyes, about to water over. Finally acceptance, and the tension released.

As if to punctuate this moment, a few choice words slipped free. “Mattie, I won't hurt you.”

There was cautious settling of arms around Gilbert in return, like this moment was made of easily shattered glass. A soft shudder of breath, then a gentle “Okay.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story went out of control didn't it? It was fun along the way though.

The rocky mountains were beautiful in the morning. Living up this high, the snowy peaks glittered and refracted golden light. Toris and Felix admired it all from the the entrance to their mountain top lair. Never in the past forty years has Toris regretted moving to Canada, to this isolated beautiful place. It was so high up no sane mountain climber would bother.

With Felix's slow mastery of illusion magic, The odd crazy hiker would coast past the lair. It was that obscured up in the snowy heights. Today a new intentional visitor appeared. It was the ever welcome Matthew Kirkland, on surprising new transportation. Normally he simply appeared in that odd magic door of his. The centuries old elf sorcerer was easily the most eccentric landlord the dragons had ever dealt with. He always collect the monthly rent in person, with unusual payments. Last month it had been taking measurements of Toris's body to tiny detail. The month before that, Matthew had wanted waste samples and loosened teeth.

The elf was clearly insane, but gaining legal protection in exchange for shed scales was worth it. Matthew was riding on the back of a white winged creature slightly smaller than a car. Still very far away, the couple lazily speculated what this month's fee would be.

“Spit.” Toris bet silently.

“No, blood.” Felix teased, leaning into Toris's broad side comfortably.

“Why is Matthew so strange?”

“He's probably insane from the last two centuries.” Felix surmised.

“Probably.”

Soon they quieted mentally. Matthew may not be telepathic, but he was a mad sorcerer left to his own devices for decades. Best not to think jokes of the smaller being in his presence. Finally Matthew landed roughly on his latest magic steed. This time it was a young dragon, white with black claws and horns. Burning red eyes of the beast looked up at the much larger dragons.

“Hello! Hello! Here for the rent.” Matthew greeted in happy sing song, remembering last minute to bow before the resident dragons. It was a gesture that generally soothed Felix's grand ego. Darkly, secretly, Toris too enjoyed the display. He's never admit it though, a ghost of his human modesty barring such behaviour.

“Who's the wyrmling?” Felix asked, not threatened in the least by this newcomer. She alone had the strength to rip the fellow's head off.

“Here I thought you'd remember me.” The young dragon greeted telepathically, his presence grating and obnoxious like metal.

“This is Gilbert, my lab assistant.” Matthew gestured to scaly pest. Toris took a second to realize who it was... Gilbert... Gilbert Beilschmidt? That was forty years ago, he should be wrinkled and old. Felix too seemed to register who the white dragon used to be.

“ _ **YOU!**_ ” she thundered, launching an attack immediately. The scarlet dragon slammed into a wall of force a second later, the barrier ripping in the air like clear water. “I will kill you!” she growled, bleeding a little from colliding so hard into the invisible wall of a spell.

“Now, it's been forty years. I think we can all agree some apologies need to be said.” Matthew prompted.

“No!” Gilbert and Felix echoed in unison. Toris snorted a puff of smoke in amusement. Both German and Polish were so unproductively stubborn.

“If you please, I'm going to need this little feud to end. Gilbert also needs teachers for magic. I'm... I'm not equipped to handle the _magnitude_ dragons can cast.” Matthew spoke softly, barely an authority figure. He seemed to realize this, clearing his throat. “That is the payment I require for rent.”

“I'm not teaching curse born garbage the mysteries of the universe! Dragon magic is a noble art that only the most _brilliant_ minds can –” Felix's self indulgent rant was cut off sharply by a shy call.

“Mom?” a little one called from the back of cave. “Mom, who you yelling at?” Another echoed. Curious young peeked their red scaled faces out the cave. Felix seemed locked between murdering Gilbert for seeing her children and cuddling her young.

Thankfully, she gave up on murder... for now. “My little gems, you shouldn't be out near strangers.” Felix cooed, coiling her tail around both little ones. The baby dragons wriggled, curious as they were disobedient.

“Who's that?” “Is he a playmate?” “Hello mister land lord!” “I'm bored!” “Momma, can we go hunting?” In this unrelenting sea of requests, The exhausted mother sagged and lay in the fresh snow. Toris chuckled, barely awake. 

“I'm sure you don't mind teaching Gillie here.” Matthew prompted politely, not dropping the idea. They did owe the elf their lives, having been shielded from discovery for the past forty years. It was enough time to lair up in some mountains and have a real family experience. That was priceless to Toris, who had already lost it all before.

“Of course we don't, assuming he doesn't try to anger my wife.” Toris agreed.

Felix hissed a small bout of fire in frustration. “ _FINE_. But I'm killing and eating him if he touches my stuff.”

“Of course.” Matthew nodded sagely.

“Or if he bugs my little ones.”

“Naturally.” Matthew went on.

“On scholar's honour,” Gilbert spoke mentally, cocky as ever. “I will be _most_ awesome and behaved.”

Felix groaned in exasperation. Toris could only wonder how many decades this peace would last. It had to, because the father of two finally felt safe and happy. He was finally home.

**THE END**


End file.
